Woes of a Coward
by marevec0m
Summary: "This is not a love story, this is a story about love." The war is not yet over, both in the magic world, and within himself. Post DH. Rated for language, violence, and sexual themes. DM/HG
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I think we all know that I don't own Harry Potter, so I don't think I need to say it other than this once!

Also, I did take the summary from the summary of 500 Days of Summer, because I think it fits, but be forewarned that this story is not a crossover. It's not even loosely related to the film. I just dreadfully suck with summaries.

I think that's all… So, enjoy!

**Woes of a Coward**

_Chapter 1_

It had been against Draco's will that he returned to Hogwarts to complete his final year. Crabbe was dead, and Goyle and his family had fled as soon as the Dark Lord had been destroyed. Draco hadn't heard a word from any of them in the months that had passed. Not that he truly wanted to hear from them, but it would be nice to have contact with someone outside of his family. The only person that he knew would speak to him when he returned to the school was Pansy, which didn't offer him much comfort, as he had been wishing since 6th year that he wouldn't have to talk to her again once Dumbledore was murdered.

Unfortunately, the after effects of the war had really taken its toll upon his family. His father, since he was obviously a Death Eater, had been picked up by members of the Ministry to be taken to Azkaban. The fact that Draco's family had switched sides apparently mattered not, because according to the Minister of Magic - they made their choice to do so far too late. The only thing that kept Lucius out of prison was a hefty sum of money his family paid to help the Ministry rebuild itself, Hogwarts, and to replace the dementors, that had fled Azkaban prior to the Final Battle. However, the amount of money that it had taken to do so had left a giant hole in their pockets, and his family was on the verge of losing their home every passing day. It was a difficult time, as it wasn't easy for a Malfoy to find work. Therefore, it was imperative that Draco return to school. Both for an education, so he could better himself, finish his NEWTS, and hopefully get a good job (all the while rebuilding the Malfoy name). Not to mention that at Hogwarts he was guaranteed a roof over his head and three meals a day.

Being completely honest, Draco was almost glad to be going back. He knew that he wouldn't have any friends, no cronies to back him up this time, but it had to be better than sitting at the Manor with his depressed parents. His fathers' hair, that had always been a silvery color to begin with, was now streaked with patches of grey, he hadn't shaved in quite some time. It also seemed that without their usual flock of house elves his mother wasn't fairing so well in the kitchen, or keeping up with the house work.

They'd sold all of their elves to other Wizarding families for the extra money, too afraid to free theirs, considering what all had happened after they'd done so with Dobby. His parents had been pampered and spoiled their whole lives. They had no idea how to do every day chores without assistance.

As they sat around the table at breakfast one morning, Draco decided to speak. He'd tried his best not to say anything for a few days, since they'd decided he would return to school, mostly to show that he was not happy with the decision. In the past this had always worked to change their mind, but apparently his new, _poor parents_ were actually strict and followed through with their word. "I was thinking I'd rather go to Diagon Alley alone this afternoon," he announced.

His father put down his cup of hot tea and glanced at his mother, who stopped twirling her food around with her fork. Her eggs had been slightly burnt, and everyone was too polite to insult them, they'd instead taken to moving them around on their plates so it looked as though more portions had actually been consumed. Really, Draco had decided to give them the benefit of a doubt, put one in his mouth, and nearly gagged when he bit into an eggshell. That, on top of the egg itself which was completely dry and tasted like just plain burnt wood, had made him decide he would not be enjoying this meal, along with every meal they'd had the past week since their staff had left. "Alone," questioned his mother. "Why do you wish to go alone?"

Draco hadn't anticipated her questioning his reasoning. Usually he said he wanted to be alone and he was left alone. This sudden change in everyone's demeanor was beginning to irritate him. "Because," he had to think for a moment, "I think it would be safer for everyone if I did."

Truthfully, it probably wouldn't be safer if Draco went by himself. Everyone hated them, he was included, but if they'd all stuck together perhaps he wouldn't get hit in the face with a bunch of curses. Although, he reasoned, he could probably grab his father quickly enough so that the curse got him first.

His parents exchanged long glances. Draco had always, in his own way, admired the way that they could know each other so well that a mere glance told the other exactly what they were thinking. Draco himself had never taken the time to honestly get to know anybody so he felt they had to truly be devoted, unconditionally love one another, in order to make that work. "Perhaps you're right," his mother finally answered. "You may go alone, but I don't want you gone past three."

Draco scowled. _Three? Really?_ He wasn't a bloody child, and for that matter he knew seven year olds who could stay out on their own well past that time. But, as it was better than them escorting him there, he had no choice but to agree. "Fine. Three."

When he Apparated into Diagon Alley, the first person he saw was the klutz Neville Longbottom and his grandmother. She was making a fuss about getting Neville a surplus of Herbology books so he would do extraordinarily well on his N.E.W.T.S. With high enough scores he could return to Hogwarts to teach in a few years. Draco hid between two buildings, facing away from their voices, until he saw them disappear into Florish & Blotts. He cursed his luck, he had been hoping he wouldn't run into anymore students in his year returning. Who cared about the younger crowd? He wouldn't recognize any of them anyway.

Across from the book shop was Brilliant Broomsticks, so Draco decided to duck inside there so he could easily watch and wait for Neville to leave Florish & Blotts. The clerk at the Quidditch store, Giovanni, was all too familiar with Draco, remembering the time his father had bought seven brand new Nimbus 2001's. He grinned ear to ear. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" he cried, rushing over to Draco and grabbing his hand in a tight grip. "How do you do, sir?"

"Fantastic," Draco spat, snatching his hand away. He'd heard the shop owner was only a half-blood. He didn't want to get his hands dirty.

"Have you seen that we now have a Firebolt II for sale?" Giovanni asked quickly, to cover up how startled he'd been at Draco's impoliteness. His smile flickered before he shook himself out of it and once again putting on the facade of being extremely cheerful. He motioned for Draco to follow him to the display.

Draco hesitated. He knew that his family wouldn't be able to afford such a luxury, but he would definitely be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't interested in at least looking while he was in there.

He swallowed hard as he glanced it over. He'd thought no broom could come close to capturing the perfection that the Firebolt made, but this broom really out-did itself. The handle was such a dark and polished mahogany that he could make out his reflection in it; the ends were bound together with a ribbon that looked like it was made out of sheer gold, and once he read the broom specs he was practically drooling. He wanted that broom.

Giovanni, sensing his customers desire, began throwing facts down his throat. He talked his ear off about how only the best Quidditch teams were using them. How they'd doubled the length of their practices to learn the new techniques of it, and how exactly to stay seated, as the brooms were so fast it almost left their owners behind. He had even gone to the back to get the key out and open the case to let Draco hold it when the young Malfoy glanced across the street to see Longbottom and his grandmother leaving the bookstore.

He handed the broom back to Giovanni muttering rudely how he decided he would purchase it elsewhere, and raced out of the store, wanting to make his trip to Florish & Blotts quick. Giovanni put the broom back in its display in a very foul mood, as he'd been talking up the Firebolt II for nearly 25 minutes only to realize he would not be finalizing the sale.

Draco knew he'd have to buy his books second-hand as though he were nothing but a lowly Weasley. He had to force away the horrible thought of the fact that maybe they actually had more money than his family for once, but it left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He caught his frown in one of the mirrors in the room and wondered briefly if something would ever happen that would make him smile again. It seemed that it had been over a year since anything had made him happy.

As he picked up the cheapest copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 his heart dropped. He was certain he'd just heard the laughter of what sounded like Potter.

Sure enough, there the Golden Trio was, rushing into the shop as though they were being followed, and quietly peaking out the windows for awhile before Granger spoke. "Really, Ron, you can't blame your mother for being a bit over protective. Especially after... well...you know." She finished lamely.

"Yeah, but You-Know-Who is dead," Ron had retorted. "She acts as though any moment someone is going to pop out and finish me off. I can't handle her breathing down my neck all the time. It's the only reason I'm even going back to school in the first place. I reckon if I don't finish I'll be confined in my room until I croak. I wouldn't put it past her to lock me away."

Draco had cringed. He hated the sound of the Weasley's voice, and hated it even more because it was getting dangerously close to where he was standing.

Quickly, he hurried down the aisle of shelves and made a quick turn down the section for Arithmancy books. "I'm surprised we managed to give her the slip," Weasley continued. "I bet Ginny's not too pleased we left her. Ah well. The greater good, right?"

The Trio grew silent for awhile, as they browsed the shelves for their books. Draco strained his ears to figure out where exactly they were, his body prepared to run again at any moment, but it was a scent that he picked up first. It smelled innocent - that was the only way he could describe it. Innocent, fresh, and faint, almost like newly grown flowers that you catch when the wind hits them. It was the complete opposite of Pansy, who wore so much "sexy" perfume that it made his nose itch and his own clothes smell like her until he had them washed. This was a tease, it was perfection, it screamed "female" in the best possible way. He loved it.

The smell had been so wonderful, and he'd gotten so caught up in trying to figure out what exactly it was, that when Hermione appeared in front of him it caught him off guard. Fortunately for him, her attention was on books, and she was concentrating on the titles so hard that she hadn't looked to her right to notice him. Draco took the time to examine her profile, as he couldn't remember ever being this close to her. Her bushy hair was pulled back into a tight braid, but as her hair was never truly tamed it still had a few loose locks resting on the sides of her face. She trailed her fingers across the books looking for a specific read. He took note of how long and slender her fingers were, how her nails were completely natural, and a bit dull. He briefly remembered watching her chew on them during an exam once, though he doubted she was aware that she did it.

Her nose came to a severe point upward, which gave her the look that she was always pointing it in the air. Which was slightly true, but maybe he'd over-exaggerated it throughout the years. Her eyebrows were just the proper length and height, and blended in perfectly with her hair. Now they were scrunched up, as she was clearly getting frustrated that she hadn't yet found what she was looking for.

"Ahhh," she said, suddenly, snatching a book too hard from the shelf so that it fell to the ground near Draco's feet.

She turned and saw him for the first time, her excited expression quickly diminishing into one he didn't recognize. Her brown eyes took in his robes, that were clearly old, as they were a duller black from having being worn for over a year now, not to mention a few inches too short. They then traveled to his stack of second-hand books. He cursed himself for not hiding immediately when he'd seen her. His heart beat quickened in his chest. He didn't want to deal with any of them. He just wanted to get his books and leave the shop that seemed suddenly entirely too small to fit all of them.

He was, unfortunately, noticing that he was staring at her too intensely. Something about her was different, and he couldn't figure out what it was. Her skin had always been blemish free, and her ears had always been the perfect size; her lips were voluptuous. That was when he noticed: Make-up.

She'd put on eyeliner and mascara. Not a lot, but just enough to make all of her features stand out. Her eyes popped, her lips looked kissable, he wanted to grab her and lay her down on a bed and watch those big eyes staring up at him filled with lust.

She turned around abruptly, causing his fantasy to suddenly disappear and for him to feel mildly disgusted with himself. It didn't matter if she finally looked like she wasn't a 12 year old prat anymore. She was still a Mudblood. He still didn't want her looking at him.

"Are you ready?" He heard hear ask the other two members of the crew. "We should probably get back to your mother, Ron, before she starts causing a scene...Let's pay for these and just go."

"Alright," Weasley grumbled in reply. "Only two more days of this, at least, and then we'll be free of it. That's all I'll have to keep telling myself."

Once they'd paid and left the shop, Draco let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. He was grateful that Granger hadn't given him away, yet it also made him slightly nervous. He didn't like thinking that she had something to hold over his head, although he had to admit she didn't seem like the vindictive type who would purposely set out to ruin someone's reputation like that. He had to remind himself that not all girls were like Pansy.

At the thought of her he quickly headed to the counter to pay for his books. The last thing he wanted was to bump into his pug-faced ex-girlfriend and have to listen to her whine about how she hadn't heard from him in a year.

After he gave the shop-keep his money he left, grumbling. He had practically drained his entire account in just one day, leaving only enough money to buy new quills and his potion supplies. It royally irked him as he had been hoping to have some money for his trips to Hogsmeade, but now it looked like he wouldn't even be able to enjoy a single butterbeer the entire year. He felt a little better as he thought about how easy it would most likely be to steal something off one of the boys he wound up sharing a dormitory with and pin it on someone else.

He ran the scenario through his brain for so long, that by the time he'd finished shopping he was in much better spirits at the thought of being able to purchase things throughout his school year.

* * *

><p>When Draco got onto the Hogwarts Express he was in a very foul mood. His mother had grabbed him at the last second and pulled him into a very long and suffocating embrace. He'd pushed against her as hard as he could to shove her away but it was like someone had put a permanent sticking charm on her. She wouldn't budge. He could hear people pointing and laughing at him - he felt humiliated. He wished his family would figure something out with their money so they could return to how they'd always been. He couldn't remember his mother ever hugging him during his life. He didn't appreciate the fact that she was just now starting.<p>

He walked by all the compartments hoping to find one empty where he could sit and not be bothered. Truthfully, it did bother him that he would be sitting alone. He'd been expecting it, but it still wasn't easy to get used to. When he saw that even that psychotic Looney Lovegood was sitting in a compartment surrounded by people he actually started to get slightly depressed. Was he that bad of a person the entire time he'd been in school?

He finally found an empty one and sat down, resting his head against the window and closing his eyes. The laughter he kept hearing from the compartment next to him made him lonely, he longed for company so badly it made his head hurt. All of that went away when he saw Pansy had spotted him and was hurrying over. He inwardly groaned. He'd handle being alone. Maybe he'd even enjoy it. _Please don't let her sit with me..._ He thought, but the plea was ignored. She opened the door to where he sat, smiled at him, and sat down.

Draco took the time to really look at her as she took the spot in front of him, facing him, drinking in his looks. She did look quite different, he realized. She'd lost weight, maybe close to twenty pounds, so her round face wasn't as fat as it usually was. She had also had her hair styled in a way that hid her rather large forehead and ears.

Not to mention the fact that, now that she'd lost weight, he had finally noticed that she had quite an impressive chest. He could have overlooked his dislike for her had she not opened her mouth.

He'd completely forgotten how awful her voice was; so ridiculously squeaky and young sounding.

Draco half chuckled to himself when he remembered that it was because of her voice that he had put off losing his virginity to her for two long years. He had been afraid that if he put it in and she enjoyed it, the noises she would make would sound something like a pig being murdered, and it would cause his libido to immediately end. Unfortunately when they were in sixth year he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He had grown tired of heavy petting and though her tongue action wasn't half bad it simply wasn't going to do the job forever. He'd been prepared for the occasion by purchasing a pair of ear buds that were so well enchanted that you could listen to whatever you wanted without anybody else being able to hear anything. He had enchanted them to play her moans and dirty words as though coming from someone else's mouth. He'd been a little humiliated when he'd visited a random adult shop on Knockturn Alley the previous summer to purchase them. By keeping his eyes closed and listening to what he imagined was a beautiful woman cumming underneath him - their experiences together hadn't been half bad. In fact, by the time the year was through he could boast that he was actually a rather good lay, and he'd never once had to listen to Pansy's squeals of delight.

"I've missed you," Pansy purred, grabbing onto his arm.

Draco resisted the urge to shake her off of him. He knew what was coming next and prepared to spit out the lie he'd come up with when she finally got around to asking him.

"Why haven't I heard from you all year?"

"Well...I was a Death Eater. I had a lot going on, you know, and with the Dark Lord living in our Manor and controlling all of our means of contacting the outside world - I couldn't exactly send an owl and ask how you'd been doing... And after he was...killed...well. I'm sure you've read the articles the Daily Prophet has posted about our family. It's just been a rather stressful time for me. I knew I could count on your loyalty regardless," he finished, looking into her eyes to see whether or not she believed him.

She grinned. Apparently she was willing to believe that he hadn't had one single moment in nearly fourteen months just to drop a quick owl to say hello. Truthfully, his family had also sold their owls, so realistically speaking he hadn't exactly lied. He probably could have gone to the post office and sent a letter from there, but Pansy wasn't worth the time it took to Apparate there and back. Not to mention the fact that only the poor used the post office. The Daily Prophet had gotten off on writing about how their family had escaped Azkaban yet again due to their money and the little strings they had left, but thankfully it hadn't been leaked into the public yet that they were destitute. Draco hated the fact that he would be in Hogwarts when that did get released, and everyone was going to make his life worse with that knowledge. Money was power, and without money, he was nothing. He had to make a name for himself, he had to do something. It was a good thing that he was actually a good student. His six O.W.L.S. had proven that, and he'd gotten those while under the stress of knowing he was about to begin working for the Dark Lord. Though at the time he had been a little excited about it. He supposed sometimes he could be quite daft.

"Well of course you can. Not a day goes by I don't think about you...or miss you...in different ways," there was a slight twinkle in her eyes that he wished he hadn't noticed. He had hoped she wouldn't talk of a "reunion" of such sorts for a few weeks, let alone on the train. He was so stressed these days he wasn't even sure he'd be able to get excited enough to perform. "I'm sure you've been very frustrated lately...Maybe I can help you with that. Let's say we go to the Room of Requirement after the feast and I'll soothe your nerves."

He wondered if that actually would help him any. It seemed like maybe that would be the best way to relieve stress, although he'd been thinking about taking it out on some kids during Quidditch practice. Well, that was if he managed to make the team without a donation. "We'll see," he replied, and watched her face fall. "I mean, I want to Pans, but the room was...destroyed during the war. I'm not sure that it's even there anymore."

Thinking about Crabbe was something he refrained from doing as often as he could. He'd never taken the time after his death to sit and wonder if he was upset about it or not. The closest he'd come was when he thought about spending the year alone. While Crabbe and Goyle had been the only ones he had really gotten close to, he never really thought of them as friends, more as minions. He didn't know if he'd truly miss the git, or if he would just miss having authority. To be fair, it was probably a little of both...Maybe.

"Alright," Pansy agreed. "Because I've tried it out with a few people and to be honest - nobody was quite like you. I'm rather looking forward to having you in bed again."

Now that was news. He felt as disappointed as she probably had moments before. She'd been with others since being with him? Sure, he was glad to know she thought he was best, but at the same time he did not like knowing he wasn't the only one. He'd been with nobody but her, and considering the fact that they'd had...whatever it was since Fourth year, it was just rude that she had thought it a good idea to just go and bone whoever she came in contact with. It didn't matter that he'd ignored her letters that came once a week for over a year - how dare she.

She seemed to notice she'd struck a nerve. "What?" She asked quickly.

"You couldn't keep your knickers on for a few months?" He spat. He quite enjoyed the way her eyes widened in shock, but didn't like it when they narrowed angrily. Pansy could be dangerous. That was partially why he'd chosen to stay on her good side for so long.

"A few months?" She cried, clearly outraged. "I wasn't aware that nearly a year and a half was equaled to just a few months. And not only that - you never once answered a single letter that I wrote. Busy or not, Draco, nobody's that busy. I was starting to think that you were dead, too! The only way I even found out that you hadn't went and got yourself a grave was because of the bloody newspaper."

"But you never thought to stop by, did you?" Draco was proud of how quickly that thought came to him, so he could turn the argument around. He was the victim here. He wasn't the one who'd gone off and shagged "a few people." He would have if anyone had come knocking, true, but he ignored that thought as quickly as it came. "I've suffered fates that you wouldn't even begin to explain, and even after the war you never thought to even come by and see if I was alright. I mean, you read the bloody articles. Clearly I was in need of some kind of comfort - but I suppose it was more important for you to let a few blokes - what was it? '_Soothe their nerves'_?"

She opened her mouth to retort, and then closed it again. Inside he was smiling, smugly. He'd won. "You brought all of your family's misfortune on yourself. You knew what you were getting into when you decided to become a servant to the Dark Lord. I'm not sorry for you realizing what kind of mistake that you made and I doubt that you are either. The only reason you're upset and regret everything now is because of how badly it's affected your pockets. You're going to regret acting as though I'm some slag when you realize how many people just can't stand you." She stalked off then, slamming the compartment door behind her.

Draco blinked furiously. So, she did know that they were broke. This was not good. Pansy never kept a secret for long.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Woes of a Coward**_

_**Chapter 2**_

Hermione was instantly regretting that she had let Ron talk her into sneaking into his dormitory when he was sure the other boys were asleep. He'd cast the Muffliato spell around his bed and closed the two of them up in his curtains so they wouldn't be disturbed or heard. Not that they would, for Hermione never made any noise. All summer while at the Burrow she'd let him try to suck her lips off her face with what he assumed was snogging, and though she'd tried countless times to teach him to slow down so she could also enjoy it he always got ahead of himself. The spell seemed to be more for his benefit than hers, because she really ever got anything from it.

Their first kiss had been wonderful. The kind of kiss she'd been dreaming of her entire life. Sort of like the ones she'd grown up watching in films. Fireworks, leg popping, head swimming- she'd felt so happy she thought she'd burst. Unfortunately it seemed that as time went on Ron's skilled seemed to lack more and more until now, finally, it was always a horrible, wet, sloppy _thing_ that she did more out of obligation than anything else. Well, and of course she fancied Ron. Though to be honest the thing that kept up these nightly escapades was simply the fact that she hoped one day it would be just as romantic as the first. It was almost worth enduring his horrible make out sessions if she thought she'd get that first kiss back.

Ron's hands had always gone astray during their sessions. She'd grown accustomed to him grabbing her behind and practically grinding against her, but she had a feeling that tonight things would be taken to the next level the moment he'd requested her to come in.

He had tried to be sly about it. First he'd put his hand under her shirt, and kept it there, just rubbing it with his warm hand - which she had actually enjoyed. And then it slowly began its ascent upward, and now it was just below her bra and his fingers were extending to slip under it.

She hesitated, and then decided to just go with it. If it made Ron happy then it was a small price to pay. Besides, she'd never gone this far before with a boy, and she was eighteen years old now. She knew Third years that had done more than this. The girls in her dormitory had all given her the nickname Prude, although when she'd questioned them they claimed it was short for Prudent. It hadn't bothered her at all her at all her previous year at school, but then Ginny had finally come forth and explained what it really meant. After that she realized exactly how sexually behind she was compared to the other students.

She regretted now that she'd never done much with Krum. She had been so nervous back then, felt so young compared to him. Not to mention with Rita Skeeter lurking around somehow managing to find private information on everyone - she'd been afraid that she might and it would be on the cover of the Daily Prophet the following morning.

Ron's large hand had squeezed her breast so hard she jumped, immediately (and reluctantly) coming back to the present. He mistook her gasp of pain as one for pleasure and squeezed again, harder this time.

She winced. She opened her eyes to glance at the time and when she saw it was well after two, she decided she'd fulfilled her duties as devoted girlfriend for long enough this evening. She'd been here nearly an hour letting Ron violate her and she had to be up early in the morning for Arithmancy.

Gently she pulled herself away from the boy, and tried not to feel guilty at the look of shock and disappointment that took over his expression. "Can't you just hold me and we go to bed?" she asked, glancing down at his trousers, turning bright red, and then looking anywhere else.

"Are you serious?" he questioned, clearly disturbed about her request, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Hermione liked looking at him this way. His lips were swollen from the endless snogging and the countless nibbles she'd planted; hair a right mess; cheeks flushed; eyes full of pleasure and genuine happiness. It was almost worth suffering through a so-called make out session just to get this effect. It excited her in a million ways he hadn't been able to. "What's the rush, Ron? It's our first night back and we've only been together for the short summer break. Is it necessary that we take the next step so quickly?"

Ron huffed. Hermione knew him well enough to nearly read his mind. He'd been in love with her for years now. According to him they were the slowest moving couple that had ever existed.

"Well?" she pursued when he didn't respond for a moment.

"Fine," he sighed, giving in. It had to have been only because he truly loved her that he would wait. She'd heard through girl talk that he'd made Lavender give it up within two weeks, but Hermione knew he'd never felt anything for the annoying blonde that wasn't just sexual. He seemed to be reluctantly realizing that he'd have to do things differently for the girl who was now occupying his bed.

Hermione smiled. She could feel that it was a big one, the ones she hated because it exposed too many of her teeth. Ron loved that smile however, and it caused him to smile back. She adjusted her bra and pajamas, and pulled the blankets out from under them so they could cover themselves up. "I'll be sure to be gone before anybody wakes up," she promised, rolling onto her side and sighing in delight when she felt his warm arms wrap protectively around her body. She felt like she was the luckiest girl alive as she drifted off to sleep.

The following morning at breakfast Draco got an owl from his uncle Accalon, which nearly made him spit out his pumpkin juice. He hadn't heard from the bloke in years, he had disappeared around the time the Dark Lord had officially been brought back and had been trying to recruit new Death Eaters. Accalon was a shoe-in for the position, but naturally he would have to be, he was a Malfoy after all, and Malfoy's were blood racists. It was something programmed into them the moment they were conceived.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) Accalon wasn't such an activist that he wanted to join reigns and work alongside his brother and serve a darker power. Last Draco had heard, he'd run off to Germany and was living by a false name. His father had practically disowned him, Draco and his mother hadn't been able to speak his name without his father pursing his lips and silently fuming.

It wasn't like he was the best of uncles anyway, Draco rationalized, as he untied the parchment from the owl's leg. The only memories Draco had of him from his childhood were ones of his uncle teaching him how to defend himself in duels. At the time, however, Draco had been too young to acquire a wand, and it was mostly the poor boy just dodging everything and crying as he found himself covered in boils.

His uncle had produced a daughter, Rachella, who was a few years younger than Draco, and a squib. When she had turned elven and shown no signs of magical abilities, his uncle had Obliviated her and then sent her off to a muggle orphanage. The family then spent the rest of the time acting as though she didn't exist. That was the kind of person his uncle was, so for him to have taken the time to write Draco a letter, well, he figured it couldn't be anything good.

_Draco,_ it began, _Your parents have informed me of their unfortunate situation. I hope this letter finds you well. I will be moving back into the country around the time of your Christmas break. It would be most cordial of you if you came to see me for a visit during your vacation. It seems we have much to catch up on. -Accalon_

The letter did not put Draco in good spirits. He decided it would be best if he didn't reply to it. He didn't want to admit it but his uncle truly frightened him. Accalon was just as good at turning off his emotions when it didn't benefit him as a common psychopath. Not to mention that he was involved in very dark magic, and if he hadn't managed to kill somebody yet Draco would be surprised.

"What's wrong?" Pansy asked, grabbing onto his arm and looking up at him with a big smile on her face, as though that might actually calm his nerves somehow.

Draco pulled his arm free, resisting a scowl, and vanished the letter before him. "Nothing," he replied, dismissing it. "I'm just wondering how Defense Against the Dark Arts will be with Professor Delure. He seems like a twat."

The man at the staff table looked ancient. At least ten years older than Dumbledore had been, but less tall, stouter, and there certainly wasn't any gayness about him. In fact, he wore the scowl that could be often seen on Snape's face. Clearly he hadn't wanted the position, but had somehow been unlucky enough to receive it. Some of the Sixth years had already had him, and it seemed they thought his lessons were sufficient enough, which was good, as they hadn't really had a decent teacher of the subject... well, ever since Draco had been at Hogwarts. It was no wonder he'd fallen into becoming a Death Eater. He knew better how to practice dark magic than to defend him from it. He cared more about keeping himself alive the easy way, rather than relying on a shield and running around trying to disarm. It seemed Potter was the only git who could make simple spells work for him in the long run.

"Astoria says he used to go to Durmstrang," Pansy said, off-handedly.

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so? Because that makes all the difference." Draco replied, resisting the urge to roll him eyes. "I guess now that I know he went to Durmstrang I can assume he's a bloody great teacher, can I?" He was never so openly foul to her, and he almost immediately regretted it. Pansy was, after all, the only person so far who had been remotely civil towards him and he knew if he couldn't at least pretend as though he cared about her feelings that things would only get worse.

Pansy, being Pansy, knew that Draco had to keep himself in check, for she knew all about his misfortune. He was only afraid that she would somehow use that against him. Perhaps she would make him have sex with her _or else..._ "You sure are tense lately," she said, dangerous glint in her eye. Her voice rose considerably with her next statement, "_Galleon for your thoughts?_"

Draco resisted the urge to punch her in the throat. Who cared if she was a woman? And in his defense, she didn't exactly look much like one; perhaps he could say he hadn't noticed her breasts until after she'd been knocked unconscious... But then, of course, he would probably hurt his knuckles on all the strange arrangement of bone structures on her face, and it just seemed like a waste of a trip to the Hospital Wing.

"I was just thinking about how brilliant you are," anybody who knew him could hear the seething tone in his voice, but it seemed nobody truly cared about him being angry. Well, they probably did, but most likely just to use it against him later.

Before Pansy could retort back with what Draco was sure was probably a _terrific_comeback there was suddenly a commotion that took place at the Gryffindor table and all eyes were diverted over there. The Mudblood Granger had leapt out of her seat, after screaming a word he'd never thought she would say, and was covered in what looked like mashed potatoes and gravy. The Weasley boy still had his arm reaching out for a biscuit, and his face was as red as his hair. There was no need to guess who had caused the accident, he certainly looked embarrassed enough for everyone in the Great Hall. He said something that Draco couldn't hear, and then he noticed that Granger was crying, of all things. He thought that was kind of stupid of her. She had faced off with the Dark Lord, undergone the Cruciatus Curse at his manor a year before, and here she was crying over gravy? Where was the logic there?

Potter was standing up then, he had used a cleaning charm to get rid of the mess on her, and was now putting her arm around his shoulder and escorting her out of the Great Hall.

_Oh_, Draco thought, as it all suddenly made sense. The gravy probably was still steaming hot. He supposed that couldn't have felt pleasant. Not that he truly cared much about the situation. He was said a silent thank you to the Weasley, who was now sitting very still in his seat, as though debating what to do next.

That was quite odd, Draco thought, as he watched the bloke mentally fighting with himself. He'd heard that the Weasel and the Mudblood had finally given into the sexual tension that twisted _everyone's_ nerves, but after he thought it over it didn't much seem like they were together. They didn't hold hands in the corridors or snog every chance they got, and he had found Granger alone in the library the previous night. He figured perhaps the red-head wasn't very satisfying, and that Granger most likely found books more interesting than him, at least some books could give you a certain feeling of completeness after reading. That thought lead him to the wonder of how the bookworm actually was in bed, and he was very grateful when Pansy's obnoxious laugh at Zabini's joke made him snap out of that fantasy.

What was _with_him? He'd grown up to appreciate the finer things, the elegant things, the beautiful things. His mother and father had made sure he'd known the difference between a fake and something priceless. He'd also been taught that anybody with dirty blood was completely repulsive, but he found it hard to resist Granger's sudden...transformation...or whatever the bloody hell it was called.

"Pansy," he said, suddenly, struck by an idea. She stopped whatever she was saying and glanced at him questioningly. "Does the Mudblood look any different to you at all?"

"Who, the Granger girl?" She asked, clearly confused by his question.

"Yeah, the one stuck up the Weasel's ass."

"She's still the same filth she always was. Her hair is still as big as a bush and her eyes are still too close together...did she get a nose job, finally? Oh, and I missed it!" She cried, annoyed. "Well, Draco? What's different about her?"

Surely Pansy would have noticed if Granger had done anything significant. If she had noticed the make-up she was wearing Pansy would have said she was trying to doll herself up. Nothing got by the pug-face in front of him. She noticed everything, and even if it were something good about a person she would somehow make it into something bad.

Draco remembered when the Patil twins had been the first girls in their year to grow breasts and Pansy had sworn one of them was larger than the other. No girl was pretty to Pansy, even if they _were_ pretty. Even Astoria Greengrass, whom Draco had always thought was the most attractive girl to enter Hogwarts, had a "huge forehead, bumpy lips, and a nose shaped like her old house elf".

"She looks more miserable than usual. Maybe she's finally read every book known to mankind and has nothing else to do with her life...Or maybe the Weasley prat accidentally puts it in the wrong hole."

Pansy laughed, grateful for Draco to finally be sounding like himself again. "Can you imagine his face when he's going at it?"

Draco laughed out loud then, for the faces she was making to mock the Weasel were the _exact_ faces she made when he was giving it to her and she really enjoyed herself. He smirked, wondering what she would do if ever he were to admit that to her.

* * *

><p>Draco was looking forward to Potions. In fifth year when they had to choose what career they'd be interested in pursuing after completing their schooling Draco had decided he wanted to follow his godfather, Snape, and become a Potioneer. He highly doubted he would ever be content teaching students how to do it, he really didn't think he would be able to treat everyone fairly, but it was something he thought about quite often.<p>

He loved every aspect of the subject. Next to Granger, and whatever the hell had helped Potter cheat the previous year, he'd gotten the highest marks on his exams than anybody in awhile. It wasn't until the Golden Boy officially stopped cheating that Slughorn actually took notice to Draco, and at the end of Sixth year they'd actually had a talk about what needed to be done for Draco to continue in the subject. When the Dark Lord had put his family on house arrest and had tried his best to keep his family miserable Draco had brewed as many Happiness Potions as he could to keep them upbeat. The problem with the potion, as with most ones that affected moods, were that the more you used them the less the effect they eventually had. Draco was pretty much immune to that particular one now, although he'd done independent research on the subject and found one called Liquid Giddiness and it affected him much like a few shots of firewhiskey would. He only drank it on desperate occasions, but when he'd discussed it with Slughorn he'd learned that it was definitely not an easy potion to master. When the professor had found out how well Draco had done with it he was highly impressed, and had promised to write a strong letter of recommendation for him if he wished.

Of course, that was before the war, and Draco was quite certain that Slughorn probably wouldn't be very kind to him after he'd learned what side he'd taken.

However, Draco was mildly surprised when he saw how ecstatic Slughorn seemed to be when he entered his classroom. "Draco, my boy!" He cried, enthusiastically. "Come here, have a seat, we don't exactly have a full house. Why don't you come up here? You'll hardly need to sit so far away."

The classroom was rather deserted. Of course Potter, the Weasel, and Granger would be in there, along with whichever one of the Indian twins was in Gryffindor, Daphne Greengrass, three Slytherins who were technically a year younger than Draco but were all officially Seventh year students, and two more people Draco didn't recognize.

He took a seat beside Daphne, since she was at least familiar, and tried to act as though he didn't notice her shifting away from him when he sat down. It was obvious it didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the classroom however, because suddenly nobody was meeting his eyes.

He took advantage of the moment to study Granger and Weasley and how they interacted together, not bothering to pay attention to Slughorn as he explained how they would be brewing Wolfsbane. He'd had werewolves staying at the Manor, after all. He'd learned how to make a potion just as good as Snape's, he could probably do it in his sleep so there was really no need to pay attention.

Granger was, as always, taking notes, even though Draco was sure she probably knew everything about the potion anyway. Her boyfriend, however, sat dully, twirling his quill between his fingers, clearly daydreaming. He had no idea how the bloody hell they had even made it this far. Granger was smart, he couldn't even pretend that she wasn't, and Weasley only got by because she helped, or Potter helped. If you took the two away from him he wouldn't be noticed at all. In fact he probably wouldn't even be in the classroom right now. He would have been killed during the war, he was that pathetic. Not to mention they had such conflicting looks Draco was scared of what their reproduction would look like. Hopefully it didn't have that horrible curse of red hair, and tall, lanky body. What did the bookworm possibly see in him?

She glanced up at that moment, as though she felt him looking, and Draco immediately diverted his attention to the table. He felt his face flush because he knew she'd seen him staring. He was careful for the rest of the lesson to glance at her, and focus on his potion.

**.**

"No, Ron, it says turn counterclockwise," he heard Granger whisper heatedly. "And you were supposed to add the crushed shells before - did you even read the instructions?"

"Yes," Weasley huffed. "Can you fix it for me?"

"No, that's cheating. You're going to have to start over. Just read your notes, this is the first potion of the year and it's fairly simple, it's just going to advance from here. How are you going to do well on your N.E.W.T.S if you can't even-"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted. "It's fine. I'll pay attention next time."

Draco heard the girl scoff quietly, her face red, and smirked to himself. It was obvious that she wasn't happy with the git, which made him happy, because at least he was now aware that he wasn't the most miserable student in the school.

Daphne sighed, loudly, and peered into Draco's cauldron, squinting her eyes to see the correct color that the potion should be in his. "_How_ are you doing that?" She whispered, sounding very irate. "I've done everything correct and mine is still a bright yellow. Yours is the perfect gold, what did I do wrong?"

Draco thought about ignoring her, as she'd done him, but if he were being given a chance to redeem himself to his Slytherin classmates he couldn't exactly just let it go by, could he? His pride got in the way too much and perhaps if he could get on Daphne's good graces he could slowly get back on everyone's good graces.

Her reputation wasn't quite as pronounced as Pansy's, but her family did have a blood line that could be traced back for centuries, and they were all rich. Perhaps they could invite his parents back over for their random celebrations and his mom would be happier knowing that she was a part of her socialites again. "I think your unicorn hair wasn't the precise five and a half inches," he said, glancing into her potion once more, to be sure. "You should try adding another drop of nightshade. That might balance it out. It won't be the right gold, you'd have to completely start over, but it will at least get you an above average grade."

She didn't thank him until after her potion began to turn a shade of gold slightly darker than his. "Brilliant," she gave him a half-smile, collected her potion into a vial, and set it on the Professor's desk as he'd requested.

After a while Draco did the same, and glanced around at the other cauldrons. Some Seventh year Gryffindor he didn't know had managed to get his potion nearly the right shade, and two more Slytherin's at least had theirs a yellow. Weasley's was a bright orange, Potter's was some strange yellow-orange mix that was entirely too soupy looking, but Granger's was the same shade as Draco's. He inwardly groaned. Apparently it wasn't possible to be better than anybody for once. The only thing that made him feel any better was that Potions came second nature to him, and the Mudblood had to spend ridiculous hours studying, taking notes, and reading books to be as good. She wouldn't know how to brew anything correctly without a book in front of her, whereas Draco could do all of this easily.

Professor Slughorn made his rounds through the classroom, congratulating Draco and patting him on the back. "I knew you'd find this potion rather simple. I'll have to really think hard to find something that you might consider a challenge, won't I?" He paused for a second, mulling that over in his mind. "I may just have the perfect idea. We'll start it around Christmastime; it'll be a treat for the entire classroom…That is, if it doesn't blow all of us up!" Slughorn was such a cheerful bat, he betrayed all that made Slytherin what it was. However, Draco still liked the bloke, if not for any reason other than that he had managed to accept Draco for what he was and hadn't held a grudge against him like he figured most of his other professors would.

When Slughorn got to Granger he seemed delighted there too, and thoroughly disappointed when he checked Potter's, who had turned a shade of red and hadn't looked him in the eye.

Draco was in higher spirits when he left the classroom. So what if Potter had defeated the Dark Lord? When you got past the fact that he'd only won out of sheer luck, it seemed that he was just your average student who struggled through school like any other wizard would. Pity nobody else saw him for what he was like Draco did.

Draco was weighing the pros and cons of becoming a journalist for the Daily Prophet, one who could expose Potter for the sub-par individual he was instead of talking him up as though he had gold running through his veins, when he felt someone lace their fingers in his. It was Pansy, of course. It was _always_Pansy. He felt a little bit insulted, to be honest. So his family had had terrible luck after the war – who cared? Draco was still an intelligent, attractive individual, with an honest lineage. What made it all the worse was that now he was officially of age and still hadn't been arranged to marry someone. It was a disgrace, he knew, because the majority of Slytherin's were already engaged. It seemed that Pansy and he were the only exceptions, and there were a lot more reasons why he felt more people would say no to _her_.

_Unless she's waiting for me to ask her_, he thought, and immediately chuckled at the prospect. He hoped that wasn't the case, otherwise she would be waiting for him for quite some time. In fact, most of the witches on the face of the planet would have to have died off, and the Mudbloods that were left would have to be deformed, before he stooped as low as to bond himself to Pansy. He liked her well enough, rarely, but it simply wasn't so often that he was reassured that he wouldn't kill her one night out of sheer annoyance. There were few who annoyed him more than she did, and that was saying something.

"I hate it when we quibble," she said, smiling at him profoundly. "You're just so impossible to get on with sometimes. Especially lately. Especially to me. And I find that rather unfair considering that I alone have stood by you through thick and thin…You'd think that you would treat me a little better."

Draco actually felt himself feeling a little bad for that. She was right, of course.

"Fortunately I've known you long enough that I understand that you're just acting out as to protect yourself. You're pushing me away because you're afraid that I'll leave you."

He blinked. Where in the world did she get an idea as daft as that one? He wanted to tell her maybe the reason he was rude to her, and ignored her, was because he wanted to do it. Maybe it was quite possible that he honestly just _couldn't fucking stand her,_but there was no way he'd be able to say any of that without offending her. Which was a real pity. "That's…not exactly the case," he said, trying to word it as kindly as possible, all the while convincing her that it really _was not_ the case. "I suppose I've been a bit harder to handle than usual, but its stress related. I want to be left alone. Just for a little while." He finished, quickly, when he saw her narrow her eyes.

She let go of his hand. "Right," she snapped. "Well fine, Draco, be alone. But don't expect me to just be sitting here waiting around for you to be ready like I've done in the past. I'm not putting my life on hold for you any longer."

"I never asked you to!" He cried, as she stormed off in a huff.

Great. Now he was alone, again, and like every time that he was alone, he actually sort of missed having her around. At least his vocal chords didn't dry out when she was there. Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, after over a year of having no sexual activity whatsoever he felt as though perhaps it wouldn't be the worst idea in the world to just succumb to her once. Or twice. Or however many times he wanted. He still had the ear buds he'd bought for this exact purpose, and she'd been rather good… Well, it was better than his hand.

Ahead of him in the corridor he watched as Weasley attempted to take Granger's hand and she casually moved it to adjust the front of her robes. Draco grinned. He would have to watch their relationship more often. Any form of gossip about the uptight Gryffindors was always a sure way to win himself back into the good graces of his classmates. Not to mention, Granger was making it entirely too easy, the stuck-up bitch.

A/N: First off, I want to thank my beta, brightneeBee, I'm a thousand times sorry that I forgot to thank her in my first chapter, she's brilliant.

Secondly, thanks to everyone who reviewed and added the story to their alerts. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter!

And third, I know Accalon isn't mentioned in the books. Actually I'm aware that Draco doesn't have any uncles, but I do need him, he becomes a big part of the story later. I promise not to be adding anymore OC characters, but Draco needs a blood relative for this all to work, and since all the Black's are dead, I had to improvise.

Thanks so much for sticking with this! I'm going to do my best to update once a week. I have up to chapter 7 written on paper, I just never find the time to sit down and type it all up when I'm home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Woes of a Coward**

**Chapter Three**

After dinner that evening Draco retreated to the library. He really wanted to take his old Nimbus 2001 for a ride around the Quidditch pitch but unfortunately he'd allowed, most begrudgingly, his father to sell it to make a few extra Galleons. He knew if he were seen using one of the school's broomsticks he would never live it down.

Draco went to the Quidditch stadium anyway at first, just to get a good look at the place and to remember how happy he'd been as he'd sailed around the hoops and the stands. He was actually a rather good player, he just wasn't as good as Potter, and it seemed that nobody really noticed him when he was in the shadow of someone else. Regrettably for Draco that was always the case. He felt like he had so much potential inside of him, so many talents, and they were almost always wasted. His father's money had lead him to grow up with the knowledge that he never truly had to work for anything to make a name for himself, and now he was actually a little proud that he'd done well in school. His father's name wouldn't get him shit now, except dirty looks and curses cast at him. He hated above all else that there were people like Granger and Potter in his year. It would be different if they had been younger, because then even if Granger got higher marks the professors wouldn't boast about her when Draco had classes; they would recognize Draco as the top of his year. If Potter had been below him, or even above him, it would be the same thing. Instead he was stuck with the insufferable know-it-all and the Boy-Who-Just-Kept-Fucking-Living. For the first time since he'd met the trio he wondered how Weasley managed to live with knowing he was the one nobody paid any attention to.

Draco felt a little worse when he thought that the fact that Weasley had the Mudblood probably made it all that much easier to stomach.

His foul mood seemed to get a little worse then. On top of the nostalgia of remembering the days when he used to fly, the loneliness from realizing he truly had nobody to talk to, and just the overwhelming sensation of feeling like a nobody – it all reached an all-time high when he found that the Weasel and Potter were already practicing on the Quidditch field.

That was his reasoning, in the end, for retiring to the library. He figured he might as well spend the year studying so that he could get the highest marks on his N.E.W.T.S as possible. Not to mention it seemed a lot better of a place to be than his common room, sitting around, secretly hoping someone would come and strike up a conversation with him.

He wasn't surprised to see Granger already sitting in there, almost hidden behind a book that was three times as large as her head. He pulled a random book off the shelf, sat at the furthest table away from her, and practiced transfiguring it into a chair. For some reason he just couldn't get this particular spell to work. He could make couches and recliners just fine, but a simple chair just baffled him. Originally he was going to just wait until the exam and wing it as best he could – it wasn't as if the first test was really _that_ important towards his final grades – but the thought of being considered the top male student made him try harder than he usually would.

"You're doing it wrong," he heard a female voice say, and glanced up to see Granger looking over at him from her side of the room. She looked uncertain, as though she couldn't believe she'd actually spoken anything to him. "You're jerking your wand too hard. Just a simple flick helps. You don't have to actually bend your wrist."

Draco sneered. _How dare she_. How dare the filthy Mudblood just interrupt him in the middle of practicing his school work and tell him he was doing it wrong? He thought of a million ways he could show her how he wouldn't _need _to bend his wrist to prove her opinion wasn't wanted, but in the end he did as she said. To his surprise, or, quite frankly, lack thereof, the spell worked. The book in front of him became the chair he had been trying so hard to achieve. He glanced at her, not wanting to thank her, but also not wanting to ignore her. He found it easier to just not speak at all.

Granger's eyes narrowed. It seemed as though she couldn't believe she had just helped someone and it had gone brushed off as though she'd done nothing for him. Draco grinned a bit when she returned back to her book. He was quite positive she got the same treatment from her boyfriend. Besides, he was _Draco fucking Malfoy_. Did she seriously expect anything more from him?

For the following ten minutes he ran the thought through his mind countless times. It was actually getting quite annoying.

"Thanks," he said, and the pressure that had been building behind his eyes instantly evaporated. He was thrown for a loop at that. He could count on his hands the number of times he'd thanked _anyone_ and now he'd done it for Granger, of all people, and he still felt as though she deserved it… Perhaps because she was the only person who actually sought to help him… whatever her motives might have been.

She appeared from behind her book once more, and he stared into her honey brown eyes, his heart beat giving a funny lurk at the intense expression on her face as she studied him. "You're welcome," she said simply, and hid behind her book once more.

Draco returned to practicing the charm a few more times, and then when he was sure he had it completely correct, he realized he wasn't exactly sure what else there was to do. Granger was reading a book on Ancient Runes and taking an excessive amount of notes, but his Transfiguration work was really all that he had needed to work on and now it was finished. He'd never before gone into the library with the intention of reading anything, books didn't do much for him, but he supposed it wasn't a bad time to start broadening his horizons. He didn't want his knowledge to be limited to simply school-work, that was exactly why the girl next to him was considered the brightest witch of their age. She lost herself in subjects she wouldn't normally need to look into, and therefore could answer almost any question asked at her. It was almost as though she read material and somehow locked all the information in a personal library inside her head. She was like a walking encyclopedia.

He got up and started browsing the shelves, looking for something that might fancy his interest in the slightest. He knew that out of everything inside the library that the books he'd be most interested in were in the restricted section, and because of his family's past he highly doubted anyone would permit him to go back there. The rest of the books seemed completely dull, nothing he truly thought that he would be able to read and study for longer than a couple of minutes, and he still had two hours to kill before he needed to return to his common room for the evening. Finally he gave up, closed his eyes, grabbed a random book, and returned back to his seat.

It was an advanced potions book. That seemed sufficient enough. He'd never really tried to broaden his horizons on the subject of potions either; it was so easy for him to brew whatever he was asked, as long as the directions were in front of him, that he had never thought to look for anything else. The only exception had been for the Happiness Potion, and that was for the sanity of his family.

He found himself deeply interested in a Self-Confidence Booster drink. He knew he'd never be able to brew it while he was in school because he had no way to get the ingredients, but the potion itself was something that he felt could help him with his everyday tasks. It would make talking to people and acting as though he were still the leader he'd once been very easy. His arrogance had diminished in the last year and a half, and he felt that if he could only regain just enough of it to make people feel intimidated by him once more that it might restore his former glory. He was certain that there were places he could probably go just to buy a bottle, but then bitterly remembered it wouldn't do him any good. He still had no means to pay for it.

At the thought of that he turned the page once more, and found himself on a page that taught people how to brew their own hair potions. He glanced over at the table Granger was sitting in, and snorted quietly, wondering if he should bring the book over to her so that she might learn how to tame her wild hair better.

Upon glance in her direction again, however, he noticed that her hair was a lot better than it had been since the last year they'd been in school together. It was still entirely too bushy, but now that she brushed it more and pulled it back more often you couldn't really tell how frizzy it could get when it was brought free.

She was still sitting there, reading, and taking notes. It seemed like she had nothing else to do for the evening, or perhaps that there was nothing else she _wanted_ to do for the evening. Though Draco supposed if he had been the one dating Weasley, he'd probably find the library more entertaining too. It was hard to be a stupid and ugly book.

For awhile longer he studied her as she studied the book in front of her. He wasn't aware of the fact that he had been staring until someone dropped a book off a shelf a few rows away and snapped him out of it. What was _with _him, anyway? There was nothing special about the Mudblood in front of him. She was just an average looking slag with above average intelligence and an annoying know-it-all attitude. Sure, her features were softer than most, and she smelled delicious, but was that any reason for him to not be able to concentrate on just reading the simple book that lay in front of him? It wasn't like the book was boring. In fact, the book was extensively more entertaining than the girl who did nothing but ignore hand-cramps and write as tiny as possible on a rather long piece of parchment about…whatever it was she was reading about now. Maybe how to make her boyfriend into a better lover.

Draco chuckled at his joke. He hadn't realized he'd done so so loudly until Granger glanced up at him. He quickly stood up, closed the book with a loud snap, and headed to the librarian so he could get permission to take it with him the evening. He'd read in the common room. At least there he wouldn't be so obviously distracted and maybe he too could take some notes and get as much extra credit on their next Potion lesson as well.

In the corridor he bumped into Potter and Weasley, who were carrying broomsticks and had hair that looked wind struck. Draco scowled, but said nothing as he passed them, glad that he hadn't stuck around any longer to witness Weasley and his girlfriend interact. "Shouldn't we grab Hermione?" Draco heard Potter ask, as he headed away from them.

There was a pause from Weasley, as though he seemed to be considering it. "I mean… Why don't we just give her some more time to finish her essay…or whatever it is she's working on now? There's no need to get her just yet, yeah? Let's play a game of chess first."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Apparently their relationship problems weren't completely one-sided. He hated to really think about it, but the ginger was kind of daft. He should be thankful to have a girlfriend as talented as Granger…Actually, he should be thankful to have a girlfriend at all as he had absolutely nothing to offer to any female on the face of the planet.

He was pondering just what Granger seemed to see in the bloke when he entered his common room, and found himself being viciously attacked. His back was thrown so hard into the wall that he swore he felt his spine crack, and suddenly there were large, knobby hands holding his face, and a tongue being forced between his lips. He recognized the overwhelming scent of Pansy's awful perfume and stopped fighting to free himself from her, but didn't respond to any of her kisses with enthusiasm. He supposed it was probably better to have her throwing herself at him as opposed to having her still angry, though really he'd rather she just move on and find some other poor bloke to attach herself to. He wished he had money. He could probably pay a Slytherin to entertain her needs for awhile.

"So I'm assuming you're not mad anymore," he questioned, when she'd finally pulled away to breathe.

"Oh, Draco, I could never be mad at you for long!" She cried, grabbing his hands between hers and squeezing them. He assumed it was meant to be a loving gesture, but all he could think was that her hands were quite manly and her palms were sweaty, which in turn made him wonder just what exactly she'd been touching before she grabbed his face without permission and raped his mouth in front of the entire common room.

It was only because he was so close to her that he caught what happened next. As soon as the words had left her mouth she'd glanced to one of the couches to the right of them, gave a smug look, and turned back to him, looking quite proud of herself. Draco followed her brief glance and noticed Astoria rising to her feet, quite angrily, and huffing away, stomping all the way towards the girls dormitories. Suddenly, he found himself enraged. He couldn't help but wonder if the reason why no other girls had ever approached him aside from Pansy was because she didn't allow them. She was probably telling everybody that they were engaged to be married, and that she'd hex the first girl who even looked at him.

If someone as good looking as Astoria Greengrass was paying him any attention he would have pushed Pansy off the astronomy tower and made it seem as though it were an accident. He hated that he couldn't be entirely sure that the girls hadn't made some sort of other bet and Astoria had lost. He didn't care if Pansy told the entire school about the misfortune of his family if it meant he could be with the most attractive girl in his House.

He shrugged Pansy off of him and picked up the book he hadn't been aware that he'd dropped, and sulked over to an armchair where he sat so he could finish browsing the table of contents and see if there was anything else in there that stroked his fancy.

Nearly an hour later Astoria returned to the common room, but avoided looking in his direction the entire time.

****

The rest of the week seemed to move by slowly. On Sunday he had received his first letter from his parents, assuring him that they were well and still managing to make ends meet. Apparently his father had gone and sold some more of their higher priced belongings for a fraction of the sum that they had paid for them, and with that money they were managing to buy everything that they needed. He could tell from his mother's writing that she was very depressed about not being able to get the newest dress robes that she'd been waiting for months to finally be released.

Draco lied and told her school was going well and everything was just as normal as it had always been, even stretched the truth a bit and told her he actually _was_ already considered the top boy of his class. He knew it would cheer her up a bit to hear that her son was doing well. It always did.

When Potions finally rolled around again Slughorn had rearranged the desks so that the entire room was one long row with only enough seats for the students that were in. Draco had arrived a little after all of the other students and, much to his dismay, had to take the seat next to Granger.

"Today we're going to be making a hair restoration potion," Slughorn exclaimed, in his usual cheerful voice. "It's used for people who are bald, or have thin hair, or have unfortunately singed off their eyebrows," at those words his eyes drifted to a younger Gryffindor Draco didn't recognize. "It's quite a complicated mixture, so I don't expect anyone to get it right on their first try… Alright now, off you go!"

Draco had actually just been looking up the potion they were making the previous night. He'd read the instructions over and over again in between glances at Astoria, and trying to shrug off Pansy. He knew that once people got passed the difficult instructions that the potion itself wasn't that hard to make. There was quite a bit of preparation for it that needed to be done, and so many ingredients that nearly everyone was going to the supply cupboard, pulling out one item at a time, dicing it or crushing it in just the right way, before returning for their next ones. Draco, since he already knew everything that he needed to do, and everything he needed, went ahead and grabbed all of them at once.

It was nearly twenty minutes later before he caught on to Granger's muttering under her breath about him. He thought he heard the term "cheating" before he spoke up, quite angered. "Excuse me?" He spat. "_What _did you just accuse me of?"

"There's no way you could be already onto step 9 right now unless you cheated," Granger replied, in a voice just as icy as his.

"I did no such thing. Maybe you're just upset because _you_ have no idea what you're doing."

She stopped from crushing her Mandrake roots and narrowed her eyes at him. "I do know what I'm doing, thank you. And I'll finish my potion without whatever it is that seems to be helping you."

"Nothing is helping me!" He felt his face get hot. Everyone was now looking at him, and he knew if he didn't do something to react, and soon, the Slytherins would completely turn their backs on him. He'd tried his best to avoid causing any kind of foul-play with any members of the Golden Trio, but he wasn't just going to sit back and be belittled in front of his classmates. "For instance, I know exactly what happens if I do _this_!" And with those words he took a large handful of his nightshade powder, and tossed it into her cauldron.

He couldn't stop laughing when she was engulfed in black smoke, and laughed even harder when it cleared and she was before him sporting hair on her head that was now growing past her waist, and a large, burly brown beard that would have made Dumbledore jealous, and seemed to still be growing.

His laughter ceased, however, when she had cried out, outraged, grabbed her own handful of nightshade, and tossed it into _his_ cauldron, causing the same affect. He coughed as he was surrounded in smoke, and his hands instantly reached for the hair on his head, that was growing at an alarming rate. It was full of thick, golden curls that a lot of girls would kill to have, and his beard was just the same. "YOU!" He sputtered, suddenly unable to think of any insult to say. Everyone was laughing at the pair of them. Potter was laughing so hard he was actually laying on the floor, red faced, and didn't even seem to be breathing.

Suddenly there Slughorn was, apparently not pleased at the pair of them. "Get to the hospital wing. Have Madame Pomfrey take a look at you. Go on…" he said, ushering the two of them out of his classroom as quickly as possible, so he could take control of his class once more. He slammed the door shut behind them.

Draco found it very hard to walk. His hair was now reaching his feet, was so thick and curly he could barely see, and so heavy that it actually hurt his neck to try and support the extra weight. He had wrapped the hair around his waist as best as he could to avoid tripping on it, but the volume of it was so outrageous that no matter what he did he couldn't walk comfortably. He no longer had peripheral vision because of it so he had no idea how Granger was managing to make it alongside him. He could hear her sniffling in embarrassment, and felt a little guilty, but swallowed that feeling back down, reminding himself he had no reason to care about how she felt. He was suffering too, after all, and he wasn't bloody crying.

"What do you mean you don't have a potion to reverse this?" Draco shouted, after Madame Pomfrey had ended her speech. He ignored the bitter thought in his head about him not crying, because he certainly felt like he might now.

"Nightshade is a difficult ingredient to predict," the older woman explained, trying to keep her voice calm despite the anger she felt at Draco's tone. "And that's at the best of times. Your potions weren't complete before you added too much of it. If the potion had settled for twenty minutes prior to the explosion I could simply whip up a counter-potion. However, there isn't one for the potion you tampered with. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until your hair stops growing, then cut it off, before I can give you the reversal."

"You'll give me the bloody reversal _now_ if you know what's good for you!" Draco spat.

"It's not going to help."

"You're a medi-witch, not a Potioneer, make some counter potion! I'm not wandering around all day looking like… like-"

"Rapunzel?" Granger peeped up quietly.

Draco and Madame Pomfrey both glanced at her, neither of them knowing what she was talking about. "Is that some bloody muggle thing?" Draco asked, his anger with Madame Pomfrey still lingering in his voice. He couldn't see Hermione's face, but he could tell that she was blushing.

"I'll make you a potion, it only takes five minutes, but I assure you, it won't help. In the meantime I can allow the two of you to stay here for the evening, to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment." She wandered off into her office. By that point, Draco could no longer see anything, his hair was too thick. He could tell she'd left because he could, very faintly, make out the sounds of her footsteps, and eventually a door closing.

He laid down on one of the beds, uncomfortable, spitting hair out of his mouth and sighing angrily. He was sweating bollocks, and he couldn't believe he hadn't read the instructions on the potion better.

Perhaps, above all else, he hated that he knew for certain he couldn't blame it on anyone but himself.

**A/N: Thanks once again to my very small selection of reviewers and to my slightly larger number of people who added this to their favorites, or their alert list, it means a lot to me… It would also be way cool if you dropped a little line and said if you liked it or not ;) Anyway, thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Just a bit of a warning, there is a tiny bit of "smut" in this chapter. Nothing too graphic, that'll be for later, but it is here. Enjoy!

**Woes of a Coward**

**Chapter Four**

Madame Pomfrey left the two students on their beds at the far end of the infirmary to attend to some Hufflepuff first year that had fallen off his broom during flying practice, and seemed to have broken his leg. The older witch had cut off enough of Granger's hair so she could breathe and see again, and had just trimmed Draco's out of his eyes before she'd left to take care of the child who obviously needed more medical attention.

Draco huffed angrily when she retreated. He could really care less if someone had been brought in throwing up blood and missing limbs. Nobody just walked away when he needed them. He felt certain he was going to die of a bloody heat stroke. He was sweating in crevices he'd never even realized he had before, and he was starting to get light headed.

Granger watched him silently, for the longest time, as he grabbed lengths of his hair and choppily cut them off. His arms were tired from how hard it was to do something like that, especially with his hair so heavy. The exhaustion of working so hard, not to mention the excessive amount of heat, was really starting to get to him. When it looked like he was about to cut his ear off she jumped in, the Gryffindor in her coming forth. "Let me help you," she said, walking over to him, and taking the scissors from him before he could object.

He wanted to retort back that he'd rather die than have her touch him. That it was bad enough to have an old witch who didn't even know how to brew the correct counter potion fiddling with his hair, he didn't want a _Mudblood_ doing it. But, unfortunately, he knew if he didn't let her, he would probably pass out soon. He was beginning to feel sick to his stomach and sway dizzily, even though he was sitting down.

Granger worked at a steady and precise pace. At first he thought she was doing it slow on purpose, but after a length of silence passed, and he could see again, he witnessed her fondly hold onto his hair and place it carefully on the bed beside them, as though it were delicate. "What exactly are you doing?" He snapped, when finally his entire face was free and he could feel cold air blowing on him. He took a deep breath to let it in. It felt like heaven flowing through his lungs.

"You have…really nice hair. I didn't know you were naturally curly," she replied, avoiding answering his question.

Draco turned red again, this time not from the heat. "Yes, well, I've spent a fortune on hair potions to keep it slicked back and straight like it is. I don't like people to know my hair has a curl to it. It came from my mother's side of the family. It's feminine." He wasn't entirely sure why he felt as though he needed to explain anything to her. He thought it probably had a lot to do with the fact that he'd almost died, was feeling very weak, and her perfume that he loved so much was caressing the inside of his nostrils like someone would touch a lover. "And that still doesn't answer my question." He added, quickly.

"I just thought… Well. There are muggles who suffer from cancer. They get really sick, and a lot of them die, but a lot of them live, too. But part of the treatment for it causes them to lose all of their hair. You and I have grown so much extra between the two of us that I thought…Well, that I could donate it to them. So they could make wigs." She said it all fast, as though knowing that he was going to tease her relentlessly for it, and wanting to get it all over and done with as quickly as possible.

Draco held back his insults. He wanted to yell that _no way_ was she giving _his _perfect hair to a bunch of Mudbloods, that he could care less if they were bald, it would affect his life in no way whatsoever. The only thing that stopped him was that she seemed so passionate about it. Not to mention she was holding his hair in her hands and had a pair of scissors very close to his ear. "That's nice," he replied, sarcastically.

She didn't reply.

After she'd finished cutting Draco's hair so that it was just cut at his ears, she moved back to her bed and pulled a book out, ready to study some more until her hair grew over her eyes and had to be cut again. She used her wand to close the curtains around them so the large crowd in the front of the infirmary couldn't see them, and made herself comfortable.

Draco had nothing to read, nor anything to do. Madame Pomfrey had calculated that it would probably take about six more hours before the potion wore off and their hair would finally stop growing. There were still two hours before dinner in the Great Hall, but the two students had agreed to have a tray brought to them and eat in the infirmary. Draco hadn't had a single visitor stop by all day. Granger had turned her boyfriend and Potter away when the medi-witch had announced they were there to see her a few minutes prior to the Hufflepuff boy and his broken limb.

Draco attempted to take a nap out of boredom, counting hippogriffs jumping over fences to try and make him sleepy. He got to two hundred and fifty seven before he sat up, sighing, and grabbed the scissors that were located on the desk beside him. He could literally _feel_ his hair as it grew; it was such an odd sensation that it was hard for him to have nothing to distract him with. It made his scalp itch slightly; it was uncomfortable.

He glanced over at Granger, who was still engrossed in her book. Since she was a woman, after the first hour of being in the Hospital Wing her beard had disappeared. Her unibrow hadn't grown back after the first time she had used her wand to get rid of it, so she was only suffering from the hair on her head growing at an alarming rate. Draco had to admit, rather begrudgingly, that now that her hair had more weight to it, it looked rather nice. It was a perfect shade of chestnut, and not nearly as curly as it had been. The frizziness of it had also gone away with the excess weight, and now it caressed her face and complimented her body in more feminine ways. In all the years Draco had known her, her hair had never grown much longer than her shoulders. He had a feeling that when it came time to cut it, she was going to keep it at a longer length than it had ever been before. She'd have to be blind not to notice how much nicer she looked now. She probably should be thanking Draco; otherwise she'd never know that it was possible to have nice, tame hair.

"What are you reading?" Draco said when the boredom became too much for him to bear. He'd rather make small talk with her than try to ignore the urge to scratch his head raw with his nails.

"_Hogwarts, A History_," she admitted, sounding almost sheepish.

"Oh, yeah? I've read that a few times actually. Some of the charms that they put around the place are fascinating."

Granger blinked, as though surprised. "You've…read this before?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?"

"It's not…It's just that I thought I was the only one who had ever really read it. I'm always telling Harry and Ron things that the book says because they've probably done nothing more than glance at it once or twice," she closed it suddenly, and set it onto the table beside her, glancing thoughtfully at the younger Malfoy, as though she wanted to discuss things about it that she'd read.

Draco quickly changed the subject. In all honesty, he'd only read the book when he was in his Sixth year, and needed to figure out a way to get Death Eaters inside. It was a good thing he had, because some of the protective charms placed on the building could actually seriously injury someone if they were breached. He didn't want to admit any of that to Granger. "Speaking of the Golden Boys," he said, since it was the only thing he could think of to talk about, "Why did you send them away when they came?"

She blushed, furiously. "Oh, I…Well. I just didn't want to have to deal with them teasing me," she admitted.

"Funny that you have to turn away your own boyfriend simply because he hasn't learned how to be tactful… I would have figured that after being around you for so long, he'd be a bit more mature than he is," he waited for Granger to snap something back at him about how he had no right to preach about maturity after he'd thrown a handful of nightshade in her potion to make her hair blow up, and was rather surprised when she seemed to shake her shoulders in an almost agreement.

"I really would rather nobody see me right now," she said quietly. "I just want to focus on schoolwork so I can get the job that I want, and try to go back to living a normal life. Being best friends with Harry for so long can make you long for something mediocre," she chuckled at her attempt of humor.

Draco felt bitter at the mention of Potter, and turned his head away from her to hide his scowl.

Granger cleared her throat, as though realizing she had crossed a boundary she shouldn't have, and piped up quietly, "So, I've always wondered…are you and Pansy an item?"

He snorted. "She wishes that were the case." He wanted to say something sarcastically about how long she'd actually wondered about his love life, but he swallowed that down. He was finding it increasingly harder to keep up conversation with her when it came to not being rude. He'd never held back so many retorts before in his life.

After awhile, their small talk increased to broader subjects. He learned that though she didn't exactly love Quidditch, that she was quite knowledgeable when it came to the teams and the players. She knew nearly as many stats as he did, especially when it came to Viktor Krum. They spoke briefly on him, too, and the Yule Ball. They talked about their favorite, and least favorite classes. They even spoke a bit about what went on when they were in the midst of the war. When they got to the day that she'd been tortured in his house, there was a long, awkward pause, as they tried to figure out whether or not it would be safe to continue on that topic. "Why did you lie and say you weren't sure who we were?" she questioned, after awhile. "I know you knew it was us."

He cleared his throat, suddenly very hot and uncomfortable. "By that time I was done with the war. The things that went on inside of our manor… I just wanted everything to be over."

"Then what about what happened in the Room of Requirement?"

He blanched there. He had been afraid the conversation would be getting to that point, and wasn't entirely ready to talk about it. "My family was suffering. They were wandless and held prisoners. We all were. For over two years…I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't trying to kill you-"

"You would rather Voldemort have done it instead?"

Draco cringed at her use of the name, and found himself unable to continue talking to her. He had nothing else to say, except to admit that he'd taken the cowards way out. That was, unfortunately, his biggest issue, though he never liked to admit it. When he was afraid, and he often was, he immediately made some else suffer so he could get out. He knew it was a horrible trait to have, and that Granger would never understand, especially considering she was a Gryffindor, so he dropped conversation, mumbling that he wanted to take a nap, though he never fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Over the following few months that passed, Hermione grew increasingly more confused about her feelings for Draco, and her relationship with Ron. Her and the Pureblood hadn't had anymore conversations since the night they'd spent together in the infirmary, aside from an occasional "hey" or a brief nod of acknowledgment if they were ever paired near each other in Potions again. She wasn't entirely sure why she was suddenly so infatuated with him, expect for the fact that he was the first person that was close to her age where she could have a decent and stimulatingly intellectual conversation. After they'd finally been released from the Hospital Wing and she had stopped to check out her new hair style in the mirror after they'd stepped out, she had caught him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. He mumbled something about how her hair looked "a lot better without that old bush for birds to make nests in" and suddenly her world had gone topsy-turvy.<p>

Ron paid Hermione almost no attention. She knew that he loved her, but most days she wasn't sure why. He seemed to care more about Quidditch, food, and hanging out with the guys than he did sitting with her. The longer she thought about it, the more she noticed that Ron really only went to her if he needed help with homework, or if he was wanting her to come into his bedroom late at night so they could explore each other's bodies.

It was on a particularly cold November evening that she finally gave in and went to his bedroom. She'd come up with as many excuses as possible for as long as she possibly could, before it seemed that Ron was just growing increasingly angry with her. They'd now been in a relationship for six months and she had allowed nothing more than for Ron to fondle her breasts. True, he'd gotten a little better at it, but she still didn't find it exciting like she'd read about in books. In fact, she was starting to feel slightly sefl-conscious. She figured a lot of it had to do with the fact that she was just a B-cup and Ron's hands were the size of baseball gloves. Her breasts probably felt small and odd when he held them, unlike Lavender, whom Hermione shared a room with.

That was a problem within itself as well. It seemed that Lavender had ill feelings toward Hermione for "stealing her boyfriend" even after all the years had passed since their break up. She liked to belittle the less experienced girl, and flaunt what she had. She was a D cup, and her breasts were large, perky, and supple. She had cornered Hermione once in the washroom to ask the girl if Ron liked to play with hers by bouncing them around as he'd done with her so often, and laughed when Hermione fumed and said no. Her breasts probably wouldn't bounce as Lavender's did. In fact, her breasts seemed smaller than they really were the longer she was around the blonde.

A lot of her reasoning for finally giving in and going to her boyfriend's dormitory had a lot to do with the fact that she didn't want Lavender to think that Ron didn't find her as fun or as attractive. Hermione knew that the two of them had suddenly become on slightly friendly terms again, she would often find them walking to classes that Hermione didn't have together, or Lavender would join them in the Great Hall for meals and laugh loudly about old inside jokes her and Ron had made. Hermione wasn't really the jealous type, most of the time, but she didn't like that the blonde was trying to create a chasm between her and Ron.

It was that motivation that Hermione found herself in Ron's bed, and nearly completely naked, only clad in her knickers.

Ron's eyes were lust-filled. She knew when she looked at him through the moonlight that he liked what he saw, and she closed her eyes as his mouth and tongue trailed along her neck; exploring the area he'd never before had the opportunity to get intimate with.

Hermione found the sensation to be good, but not nearly as great as she had expected. It seemed like Ron was always just an inch shy of the area she could tell would feel amazing, and though she craned around and moved to try to get his lips where she wanted them – he never obliged. It was like trying to teach an old dog new tricks.

As he seemed to get more excited, his mouth became harsher on her skin, and he began to use his teeth. When he grew dangerously close to her nipple she became frightened that he might actually bite it off, and instead pushed his head down, in an attempt to move it away from there, not thinking about what might be on his mind at that motion. "Impatient, are we?" he asked, and before she could say another word, he'd spread her legs wide, and brought his tongue down on the most personal part of her body.

There was a moment when she jerked to pull away from him, feeling suddenly embarrassed and exposed, but when she lifted up to move away, he took the opportunity to pull her knickers down her thighs, and continue where he had left off.

She tried to distract her thoughts, and think of anything else. She thought about the war of the giants, the Goblin civil rights movements, and how muggle money converted into Wizard money to take her mind off of what he was doing… At first.

Slowly she felt her body begin to grow warm, and she forced herself to relax. Whatever Ron was doing (she was too afraid to open her eyes) she was really enjoying it. His tongue was softer, slowly running over her sensitive spot, and his hands, that were resting on the outside of her thighs, felt like they were warming her entire body. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so _good_ before, it was almost overwhelming.

She tried to hold off whatever sensation she felt building inside her by focusing on other things, when really she wanted to grab Ron's head and push him against her more, and scream for him to stop being so fucking soft, that she needed more pressure or she was going to explode. She could feel her body begin to quiver in anticipation, her fingers were twitching on the bed, grabbing at the blankets because she felt as though she might lose control if she didn't have anything to hold onto. Her breathing was increasing to a dangerous speed, she was almost there-

Just as suddenly as the good feeling had started, it diminished. Ron had sat up, and buried his face in his hands, looking depressed. "I'm rubbish!" He cried, facing away from his girlfriend.

Hermione lay there blinking for a moment, the loss of what would have been the best orgasm of her life thus far causing her brain to be unable to function at the time. Her body was having a hard time accepting the fact that the thing she had been so close to achieving was taken from her. It was a lot to take in.

"What?" She said, after what seemed like an eternity had passed.

"I'm rubbish. You don't enjoy a thing I do. That's why you never want to come in here when I ask. Why you always have excuses." He was still talking into his hands, where his head was hidden, his voice came out muffled and it took Hermione a second to decipher what exactly he was going on about.

"Oh…Ron, that's not true," she lied.

"I know when you're lying," he snapped, pulling his hands away and turning to look at her. "Why else have you been making so many excuses and wanting to go to bed so early all the time?" He demanded.

She swallowed. She hadn't been expecting Ron to ever bring this up, and it was a conversation she really didn't want to have. Though she'd enjoyed his tongue action, she really hadn't enjoyed anything else he'd done, and to be honest she didn't want to suffer through anymore make-out sessions. They left her more unsatisfied than if she'd just gone to sleep in the first place, not to mention twice as frustrated. She'd relied on her hands her entire life to get her off, but it had always been a rare occurrence that she'd felt the need to do it, up until she'd started dating Ron. Now she found herself always sexually frustrated and angry, and her hands just never did the job that she craved. She always wanted more as soon as she was finished.

She had no idea how to tell Ron that, however. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, and she knew him well enough to know that once his pride was ruined there was no making things better. He'd probably stop doing everything entirely, and then she'd probably explode. It felt safer to lie. "That's not true," she said once more, and took his hand. "I really like what we do…especially that, just now, that was amazing. Yes, it was." She insisted when he shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I'm sorry that I've been so distant with you. It's just with N.E.W.T.S and everything I've got a lot on my plate, and I don't want to be tired in classes and miss out on important information. I thought you knew that."

Ron seemed to accept her excuse, and after a moment he turned and smiled at her, putting his arm around her and pulling her close to him.

She bit her tongue as they laid down and he wrapped his arm around her, keen on going to sleep. She wanted to finish so badly that it prevented her from drifting off. As soon as he was snoring she untangled herself from him and went back to her dormitory, to temporarily take care of her problem.

* * *

><p>When Draco woke up the following morning he was confused for a moment as to where he was. He'd dreamed of Granger the previous night. It wasn't anything sexual, just that she was sitting next to him in the library, and they were laughing and talking and thoroughly enjoying each other's company. It was so realistic that when he woke up he wasn't even sure if it had happened or not. The only thing that let him know it had to have been a dream was the fact that he was still feeling ridiculously lonely. He felt for sure if he woke up knowing he had a friend, even someone like Granger, that he would be happier as the days passed.<p>

He thought about her a lot as he got dressed and when he went to the Great Hall he was disappointed to see that her usual seat was empty. Her boyfriend was there, along with Potter, and after Draco had finished eating his toast he watched as some big breasted blonde took the spot beside Weasley and flipped her hair behind her shoulders flirtatiously. He couldn't hear whatever Weasley was saying to the girl, but he knew whatever it was, it couldn't have been that funny for her laugh to carry all the way to the Slytherin table.

All throughout breakfast he tried to block out how loud the blonde girl was, but he couldn't help but glance over there from time to time. Weasley seemed as though he had completely forgotten that he even had a girlfriend by the way he was looking at the girl sitting beside him. Potter and his red-headed girlfriend were also shooting the tall boy daggers with their eyes, as though they, too, were annoyed with the blonde girl's presence and wanted her to leave. Wanted, rather, for the Weasley to shoo her away.

After breakfast was over, Pansy fell into step beside Draco as she usually did, going on about her dream the previous night, and trying to hook her arm through his despite the fact that he was continuously pushing her hand away from him. "Pansy," he interrupted suddenly, moments before the exited the Great Hall. "Did you see the slag that was hanging all over Weasley?" He questioned.

She narrowed her eyes at him. For a moment Draco swallowed, unsure as to what he could have done this time to upset her. "Yes. Why?"

"Who was it?"

She let go of him, her face turning a shade of red. "Lavender Brown. She used to date him in Sixth Year. Did you forget?"

"I knew she looked familiar, I just couldn't remember her by her face," he admitted, after a silence.

"Well," she said, not bothering to hide the scathe in her tone, "I guess you weren't that interested in him back then. He wasn't with the Granger girl, so you had no reason to pay him any attention."

Draco felt his face heat up. She'd said the words loudly enough so that a lot of people around them heard, and he wasn't sure how to make up for it. He wasn't even sure if her words were the truth or if she was mind fucking him. All he knew was that a long silence had passed in which he had not spoken, and he needed to say something before people believed what she said. "You know what, Pansy, I'm done with you. First you claim me like I'm some sort of trophy and tell people we're betrothed when really I can't stand to be near you. Now you talk to me as though I'd be interested in some Mudblood who isn't even remotely attractive? This is over. All of it." He spat, knowing that what he'd said about Granger was very far from the truth, even though he wished those were his actual thoughts.

A lot of people had grown completely silent after his outburst. Pansy looked as though she were going to burn the place down, and Draco stepped down slightly, fearing the worst. "You know what Draco? That's fine. I don't want to marry you anyway. I mean, we'd have nothing to eat, nothing to wear, and nowhere to _live_, as I've heard that your father is currently unemployed and you're on the verge of losing your house, just as you've lost the majority of your possessions. I'd much rather be with someone who had more going for him than just a name that no longer means anything. Go ahead and marry the Mudblood. You're filth anyway!" She cried, before storming off down the corridor.

"I'd rather be broke than marry you! Or the Mudblood!" He cried, helplessly, after her, in one last attempt to sound like he was on top.

People had begun walking away as soon as Pansy's outburst had ended. It wasn't until immediately after Draco had spat out his last bit about the Mudblood that he smelled a strong burst of flowery perfume and watched the bookworm hurry passed him. He wasn't sure, but he thought she was crying.

_Fuck_, he thought, resisting the urge to punch the wall beside him. He stormed off, angrily, though he was unsure if he was mad about the fact that Pansy had finally blurted out his family's secret, or that Granger had overheard his lies…Or maybe it was the fact that he felt like he needed to go and apologize. Whatever it was, he hated it.

**A/N:** Once again, thanks to everyone who _reviewed_ and who added this to their alerts, and favorites. I love seeing everything, it'd be nice if you could drop a line and let me know what you think, though! And thanks of course, to my beta Brightneebee, who has also helped me figure out a plot for later chapters! Love you all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Woes of a Coward**

**Chapter Five**

By the time December had finally come, and the grounds were covered in perfect white blankets of snow, Hermione had given up her desire to be on Draco's good side. She'd given up the hope that one day he was going to show up and apologize for the things he'd said about her, though she'd known all along that was a lost hope. Draco had been saying those things since the day they had met; she wasn't entirely sure why she had thought his mind had changed, just because he'd been a _little_ nicer. Perhaps it had a lot to do with the fact that he had screamed it while leaving the Great Hall, so everyone had heard. Not to mention the fact that her boyfriend had looked between her and the blonde, almost dumbfounded, as though he was torn between believing Pansy and Draco had valid reason for arguing about Hermione like they were, or thinking they were mental.

Whatever the case, he'd certainly kept a closer eye on his girlfriend, which Hermione was actually enjoying. Part of her reason in the first place for being so upset with Ron was the way he constantly chose his friends over her, and then came crawling back when he needed something. She knew that he loved her, but she figured it had a lot more to do with his lack of maturity. He didn't want to appear as though Hermione kept him on a short leash, which most people seemed to believe to be the truth, so he kept his distance. Hermione knew what went on in his brain; she could read his mind without Legilimency, (he wasn't very complex, to be honest) so she knew she shouldn't feel snubbed when he took off to ride a broom instead of sit with her and study. Unfortunately, as a girl, she did.

She knew he was going to leave her that evening as soon as she saw Harry, Dean, and a Seventh year by the name of Connor enter the common room dressed in very warm robes. "Ron, we're going for a couple rounds on the Quidditch pitch. You want to join us or are you, ah, _busy_?" Connor questioned, smirking at the way Ron instantly fumed.

Hermione did not care for Connor. He was lazy, he made fun of everyone, he only cared about having fun, and he hung around Harry and Ron because they were considered heroes. He'd never once in the six years Hermione had been at Hogwarts shown any interest in the trio until after the war. A lot of people had been that way, but none were as bad as Connor had been about it. Hermione knew through talking to Ron and Harry that neither boy much liked him, but they felt challenged by him, so they invited him to hang out, and did whatever mischief Connor currently wanted to get into. It was yet another factor that caused so many issues in her relationship. Nine times out of ten, Ron was blowing her off for someone he _didn't even like_. That was always a self-esteem hit.

"Actually we've just finished," Ron declared, closing his book quickly. "Let me grab some warm robes and I'll join you."

Harry glanced at Hermione sympathetically, and then sheepishly looked away, as though realizing he was guilty of doing the same thing to her on a daily basis.

Hermione found herself wishing she could be more like Ginny at that moment. Ginny was never upset when Harry blew her off to hang out with the guys, and it seemed that because of that Harry cleared space in his calendar to make time for her. Though Hermione had never asked, she'd heard rumor that the couple had consummated their relationship, numerous times, in numerous places, and that had a lot to do with why Ginny was so smitten with him and never nagged. Apparently Harry wasn't just talented at dodging spells, and he kept Ginny so satisfied she could care less _what_ he did, as long as he was coming back to her every night.

Harry loved Ginny, that much was obvious, and he was a bit more sensitive to the fact that she was a woman with needs that weren't just physical. Every Friday they had their "alone time" where they sat by themselves in the common room and spoke in whispers, cuddled and kissed for hours before retiring to bed. None of the guys gave Harry a hard time about it because he'd killed Voldemort. Apparently since Ron hadn't, he wasn't given the same respect. He would be teased for sitting around with Hermione if she'd asked him to do it, and so he never did.

By the time Ron had changed his clothes and made it back to the common room, Hermione had already retreated to her dormitory and covered her face with the blankets, willing herself not to cry.

**oOo**

Draco sat in his common room watching the Great Lake above him. The lake was ice now, and in looking up it had made a bunch of beautiful circular designs where gas bubbles has escaped and then frozen before the air reached the surface. He loved this time of year when he could watch it happen, it was calming and almost breathtaking. His mother had described it to him when he'd been growing up, and he always felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be during the winter when he sat beneath the lake. It completed him in a way.

The common room was of course freezing, so he'd used a spell to make himself a controlled fire, complete with burning logs that one would find in a fireplace, sitting on the ground beside him, and keeping him very toasty. Tonight he was just reading over his Transfiguration notes. It seemed that for their next lesson they would be changing cats into raccoons and Draco was having trouble with the incantation. He'd barely been able to turn the squirrel into a chipmunk last week, and this one was supposed to be twice as challenging, so he wanted to get a head start.

His life had certainly grown quieter since he'd had that row with Pansy. She'd decided that after she had humiliated him enough by telling everyone he was poor, and that he fancied a Mudblood, that she'd done her part and had started seeing Marcus Flints' younger brother, Ralph. He was just as ugly as the older Flint, and seemed just as daft, but Pansy seemed happy. That, or she was faking it. Whatever the case, Draco was not going to complain about it.

Astoria had been giving him more attention, however, rather subtlety. Draco was unsure if she should have been a Slytherin because she seemed sweet to the point of being Hufflepuff worthy. He'd heard through rumors that she was the biggest bitch that had ever been in Slytherin, even one-upping Pansy, but he wasn't sure he believed it. It seemed like the kind of thing Pansy herself would spread around to deter him from pursuing the younger girl. This in turn only made him want to pursue her even more.

Draco glanced up from his Transfiguration note to rub the bridge of his nose, where he felt a headache brewing. When he opened his eyes again they locked on Astoria, who was sitting on the opposite side of the common room, talking to her group of friends rather quietly. She smiled shyly when she saw him glancing at her, turned red, and continued on in her conversation. The exchange made Draco inwardly gloat, at least for a moment. As soon as he started to feel good about himself for catching the attention of Astoria he always had to shrug off the nagging feeling that he didn't really care for her. That there was someone else he cared for. A certain Mudblood who, for the longest time, had abnormally large front teeth.

He quickly went back to his notes to hopefully make him stop thinking about Granger. It seemed whenever he had a free moment in the last few weeks his mind was always travelling to the day in the corridor he had called her ugly and watched her run past him crying. He was even having trouble sleeping because of it. At first he had made it a point to go to the library a lot in hopes of bumping into her, but she was never there when he went. He wasn't entirely sure when she was finding the time to search for books, because every morning for breakfast in the Great Hall she had a new one, but he had gone to the library during nearly all of his breaks and never once caught her browsing the shelves. Finally he decided she was avoiding him and he quit trying to find her. He was rather annoyed with the fact that even though he'd _tried_ he was still stuck feeling guilty over the situation.

Since his Transfiguration notes weren't helping him take his mind off of Granger, he pulled the letter he'd received with the post that morning from his uncle Accalon, and reread it for the fifth time. "_Draco, I'm very pleased with how close it is to the holidays. Your parents are currently staying with me in my vacation home in Gloucestershire, as I'm sure by now you've heard the news about your father losing the Manor. Of course, if you follow the Daily Prophet there was quite the article devoted entirely to your family's current situation. No doubt it was written by a filthy Mudblood. Luckily it wasn't front page news, and I doubt you know of any students that interested in current affairs to read the entire newspaper. We're very much looking forward to having you here for the holidays. I have a proposition for you that I don't think you will be able to refuse. See you soon. –Accalon"_

Draco had yet to respond to a single letter his uncle had written him. Even when they were written about good news, Draco still got a bad feeling from them. He felt uneasy, and wasn't looking forward to going to stay at his uncle's home. He missed the Malfoy Manor so badly that it made his stomach hurt.

Draco had also had no idea about his family losing their home, because his parents had ceased to write him or answer any of his letters in nearly a month. When he'd read his uncle's letter he'd been very perturbed, and borrowed a paper from one of his friends to read the aforementioned article. Luckily it was rather small, and thrown in the very middle of the newspaper, surrounded by small articles about food drives and droughts, Draco had been relieved that nobody had approached him about it. He figured Granger was probably the only person in the world who read the entire paper, and even she hadn't given him a look as though she'd noticed anything different. So, he was off the hook. Not that it truly mattered anymore, however. If everyone already knew he was broke, then the next obvious assumption would be that they'd lose their home. Still, he felt much better in believing his family life was safe from the gossip of his classmates, at least for the time being.

When the common room became more deserted, and the fire at Draco's feet began to go out, he yawned, suddenly feeling more drained than he could ever remember being. He was just about to pack everything up and head to his room when Astoria appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere, and glanced up at him with her huge blue-green eyes, a small smile on her very full and pouty looking pink lips. "Hi," she said, tucking a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

For some reason Draco found himself completely captivated by her wrists and hands. He couldn't explain where the fetish came from, or even why he had it, but he always felt himself getting aroused anytime her wrists were visible. They were dainty, pale, feminine, slender, and matched perfectly with her fingers. Unlike Granger, the girl before him took great care of her nails. They were always shiny and perfectly manicured. Draco often imagined them digging into the skin on his back as he thrusted himself into her. He always had the strangest sensation to be able to take her hand and kiss the tips of all of her fingertips. He felt that was something he should probably not speak to anybody about. "Hi," he said back, clearing his throat, suddenly unsure where to take the conversation.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" she questioned, a faint blush shining on her pale cheeks.

"Yeah, I always do. Christmas is my mother's favorite holiday."

"Will you still be able to celebrate? After…everything that's gone on?"

Draco paled, and then felt his face grow hot in anger.

"I'm sorry!" Astoria cried, as though realizing what she had said. "I didn't mean for that to come out the way it did. Honestly, I was just wondering if-"

"It's alright," Draco lied, "I'm sure we'll be able to manage… It's getting late. If you'll excuse me."

She reached out when he went to walk off, as though she wanted to grab him and prevent him from leaving, but stopped herself when she saw his facial expression, realizing that it wasn't a good idea. "Okay. Well…goodnight."

He chose not to respond.

**oOo**

Draco was in a very foul mood the following morning. First, he'd had to witness Pansy and Ralph snogging each other's brains out in the common room, and it made him want to vomit. Next, Astoria had looked at him very apologetically, as though she were hoping he'd come and speak with her, and nothing annoyed him more than a crying female. Third, on his walk to the Great Hall to get something to eat for breakfast he'd been a little ways behind the Golden Trio and had to witness Granger and her freakishly tall boyfriend hold hands and smile at each other affectionately. Draco's stomach was now so upset with the combined events that when he finally sat down to put something on his plate he found that he wasn't even hungry.

Instead, he spent his time throwing daggers with his eyes over at the Gryffindor table, willing one of the members of the trio to look over in his direction. He'd told himself that he was going to be better about them, and not purposely start a fight with any of the members, but today he needed to release stem, and Potter was always the perfect outlet. Draco snorted quite loudly when he realized that for the first time it wasn't Potter that he hated more than anyone else, it was the Weasel. He refused to fully accept why it was he suddenly hated the redhead so much, and instead chose to stab at his eggs with a fork to keep his hands busy. When the yolk exploded from the sudden blow, Draco pretended it was Weasley's head, and felt twice as bitter when he realized it didn't make him feel any better.

He just couldn't understand why Granger was with him. Sure, they'd been friends since they'd started school, and they'd survived a war together. Didn't looks have to account for something? Or intelligence, for that matter? Did Granger just blind herself to all of her boyfriends' flaws? Draco knew he was being a bit hypocritical there, because he'd been trying to feign happiness with Pansy for years, but of course the situation was different when it came to other people. It wasn't as though Granger had to choose a Pureblood with good withstanding to the wizarding community in order to keep her family name in imperfect stature. If that had been the case, Weasley would be just as bad as mating with a Mudblood.

And again, there was that term. For some reason, Draco seemed to constantly forget that the girl _was_ just a Mudblood. As soon as he reminded himself he rose from the table, ready to get to his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and find something to preoccupy his mind. He saw, from the corner of his eye, that Granger had glanced in his direction when he'd walked by, as he'd purposely stormed by the Gryffindor table to make sure she noticed him and that he was angry. As soon as he'd exited the Great Hall he realized exactly how stupid that move had been, and chose to go for a quick walk on the grounds to calm his nerves.

Draco absolutely loved snow. He figured he got that from his mother; she loved the winter so much that she had considered moving somewhere where it was winter year round. She had joked when he was growing up that once they were there they could pretend it was always December, keep a tree all the time, and decorate the inside and outside of their home. When Draco was three, he had loved to fantasize about that. She would take his hand and they would build snowmen, go ice skating, and throw snowballs at his father when he'd come home from work. Lucius would always know where his wife and son were hiding when he Apparated in the front yard, but he would play it off as he didn't, and once the snowball had hit him he would chase them down.

Draco loved life back then. His parents had looked at each other with so much love in their eyes that Draco himself could feel it coming off of them in waves. Life had been so simple, so carefree.

He missed those times.

By the time he finally got to his lesson, he was more depressed than he'd been before. His depression didn't improve once Professor Delure had informed everyone to pick a partner, and Draco had been the only one who had nobody to sit with. He hid his humiliation with a scowl, and made sure to give Pansy an evil glare for choosing her ugly boyfriend over him. He knew she didn't really like the bloke, she was just using him to make Draco jealous. Usually he wouldn't care that she had picked someone aside from him, but when it came to partnering off – that was crossing a line. He'd pay her back for that one.

"Seems we have an extra student," Professor Delure stated, glancing around the classroom. He seemed to be mentally debating on what to do with Draco when the door burst open.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor," breathed Granger. Draco's eyes wandered to her heaving chest. She looked disheveled, her top buttons were missing as though they'd been ripped off, her hair was coming out of her now loose tie, and she was red in the face as though she'd been running to make it to his lesson. "There was an incident with two Fourth years and I had to hold them back while waiting for-"

"Never mind all that," the professor interrupted. "You can join Mr. Malfoy for our little project, since you weren't here when I allowed everyone to choose partners."

Granger noticeably flinch, and hesitated, before she nodded and made her way over to where Draco was sitting. She sat down in the seat beside him, and turned her body so it was facing the front, but nowhere near Draco's, and tossed her bag on the floor between them, as though it created a barrier of some sort. Though Draco tried not to, he took notice of her perfume, and smiled to himself, glad to finally smell it again.

Delure waited until everyone had quieted down, and used his wand to levitate a box with a hole in it to the students in the desk closest to him. Once they had drawn a piece of paper from it, and passed it on, the professor spoke, "Each paper inside of this box will have the name of a very powerful, very dangerous creature. Whichever one you draw, your team will be in charge of studying. The first week you will spend researching as much as you can about your creature. Make sure to do this very thoroughly, and to actually digest your material. As much information as you can. The following week you will be sectioned off to fight and abolish it." Excited whispers began throughout the classroom, but they were instantly silenced at the expression on Professor Delure's face. "Keep in mind that you will all be given a Temporary Protection Potion to drink first, least any…_accidents…_occur. After you have successfully destroyed whatever you have currently, you will then teach the class all of your information. Note that it is _imperative_ that students pay close attention to these, because every creature _will_ be tackled by you at some point."

Granger raised her hand, and Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, sir, we're not going to be fighting _real_ creatures, are we? They'll be boggarts, right?"

Delure just grinned mysteriously. "I'm not going to release that information until everyone has finished their assignments. Know that I have already had this approved by the Ministry, and the Headmistress, and I think that is all the information you really need at this point in time. This project shall, I expect, only last until Valentine's Day, and it will not be an every day lesson. A lot of this will entail you to meet outside of my classroom, as we will also be training for your N.E.W.T exams. I thought this would be a vivid and enlightening way to learn the material. Some of you in here are planning on joining the Aurors after completing schooling, and this will be the best way for you to have hands on experience…Not that all of you need it." Of course he grinned at Potter as he spoke his last sentence.

"Oh yeah," Draco gulped, after he'd unfolded their paper. "Inferi. Sounds like _so_ much fun."

Granger chose not to comment on it, but she did look a little nervous once he'd said it.

True to Professor Delure's word, they did not have time to go over their creature during his lesson. Instead they studied pictures of wizards and witches who had been cursed, and spent their time going through their books and notes trying to identify what spells had been cast on them. Draco found the lesson to be informative. He liked Professor Delure as a teacher. Though the man was ancient, it was obvious he knew what he was talking about, and he had a knack for keeping everyone's attention. Draco hadn't thought about the smell of Granger's perfume and her relationship with her boyfriend the entire length of the class.

Leaving the lesson, Draco followed behind the trio to hear Granger's boyfriend speaking sympathetically to her, "I'm sorry you got Malfoy, rough break," Weasley stated, patting his girlfriend's shoulder. "Better you than me or Harry though."

"And why is that, exactly?" Granger practically spat.

"Well…Because Harry and myself can't get along with the prat long enough to study. You could be civil if it meant getting a good grade. It's one of your best qualities," he added quickly, apparently wary of the expression that had latched itself onto her face.

She huffed, "I expect I'll be doing all the work, so I'm going to head off to the library, before I have to be back for Double Charms. Might as well start now."

"Alright," said the boys in unison.

Draco scowled. A lot of things made him scowl, but how _dare_ she accuse him of being _lazy_? Just because he wasn't the top student like she was it didn't mean he didn't work hard. He had gotten six O.W.L.S for Merlin's sake, and that was with the pressure of knowing he was about to join ranks with the Death Eaters and his father being put into Azkaban.

He decided to beat her there, look as though he'd already been studying. After all, his day was free until three when he had Slughorn for Potions, so why not spend the time studying? It wasn't as though he had anyone to spend time with.

The look on her face when she saw him sitting in a chair reading about Inferi was definitely the highlight of his week. "Malfoy," she began, and then hesitated.

"Thought I'd go ahead and get started on it now. I figure that as you're The-Boy-Who-Lived's friend that he'd somehow talk you into not sharing notes with me, hoping I'd fail when we have to actually encounter the Inferi. So, I'm one step ahead of you," he said, without looking up from writing his notes. He could visualize the expression on her face, and tried to hide a smirk.

"Well," she said, an icy tone in her voice, "I wouldn't think you'd need to do _any_ research on the subject at all, considering Voldemort probably taught you how to make the beasts in the first place."

Draco cringed at hearing the name he still feared to this day, and fell silent. She, like everyone else, had no idea what he'd been through, what he'd faced, how badly he'd been treated. Granger had been unfortunate to receive the Cruciatus Curse _one_ evening. She had never been there to witness all the times it had been used on him. Nor all the times he'd had to watch it used on his parents until he grew sick with fear that they would wind up like Longbottom's. He'd undergone the most emotional turmoil he felt he'd never be able to handle again. Sure, the Golden Trio had probably faced off with some fear, but that didn't mean he'd been off in a delightful wonderland enjoying the fact that he had a sociopath living in his home killing people every day over not fetching the paper fast enough. "For someone as brilliant as you, you certainly don't do a whole lot of thinking," he spat. "If the Dark Lord had me making Inferi – why would I be wasting my time studying in the library?"

Granger fell silent for a moment. "Well, I'm sure he never taught you how to _defeat_ them," she settled on.

"Granger, you-" he began, heatedly, and then bit his tongue. He'd already insulted her enough, and wanted to get back in her good graces, though Merlin only knew why. If he fucked things up further by barking more rude comments at her, he knew he'd ruin all chances of what he was secretly hoping to achieve. The least he could do was just ignore her for awhile.

Granger smiled slightly when she realized he wasn't going to continue, and again said nothing in return. She just continued to browse the shelves, and once she found a few books that stroked her fancy she sat a few tables from Draco and immediately began reading.

They worked in silence for the longest time, before Draco nearly jumped out of his robes hearing a squeaky female voice exclaim, "There you are!" rather loudly. "I've been looking all over for you!" Pansy took the seat in front of him, blocking Granger from view.

"Oh, so you're talking to me now, are you," he snapped. He planned on never forgiving her for shunning him the past few weeks and making him look like an utter fool in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I was just hoping to make you sweat a bit. If I'd known that we were going to be in pairs until Valentine's Day obviously I'd have chosen you. If nothing else then to spare you from working with that Mudblood."

Granger heard her, for she sniffed loudly at the term.

Pansy spun around, suddenly looking delighted at seeing the girl was in the room. "Well, well," she said. "I _knew_ it smelled foul in here." She laughed at her joke. "Come on, Draco, let's get out of here before you can't get the horrible stench off your clothes."

Draco hesitated. He knew if he left with Pansy after her insults that Granger would take offense to it and he'd be right back to where he'd started. It would also make working with her for the next two months intolerable, and the trio would assume he was the same git he'd always been. But, then again, he'd been aching for human contact, and he rather liked having Pansy speaking with him. If nothing else than to snap at her whenever he needed someone to let loose on. The expression on Pansy's face told him she knew exactly what she was doing when she'd said what she had. Clearly she was putting Draco through some sort of test, perhaps trying to figure out if he really _was_ soft on Granger. "Not right this moment, Pans," he tried to sound reasonable, but he knew he'd made the wrong choice when her eyes narrowed. "I really want to get this studying out of the way for now because… I have detention all this week," he lied, "and I don't want to be completely behind for our next class."

Pansy looked at him, suspiciously, but seemed to buy it. "Well, why don't you just come and study in the common room?"

He swallowed. "I will, in a moment, I just need to find which books will best help me, and then I'll leave."

She sighed, loudly, and rose to her feet dramatically. "Alright, Draco, you do what you want. Just remember that we're all _watching_," she spat, and exited the library dramatically.

When she was gone Draco noticed that the seat Granger had been sitting in was empty, along with her bag. He sighed, angrily, realizing that he'd lost with both of the females.

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone for following this story :) it really means a lot to me. I apologize for the slow pace of this chapter, and their relationship, but I do want to build up to it. I'm not a fan of DM/Hr fics where one day they wake up all happy in love together, so I'm trying my best to make it develop slowly. When I get closer to something really happening I'll give you a little hint first :).**

**Also, I've finally got everything planned out, right up to the epilogue, which I might have to write two of, because I think a few people are going to be disappointed in my original set-up. Once again, thanks to my gorgeous beta, Brightneebee, you all should take a look at her writing if you get a chance! It's very powerful!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Woes of a Coward**

**Chapter Six**

Hermione practically ran into the girl's lavatory and locked herself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet forcefully, and grabbed a handful of tissue to blow her nose with. Her eyes were burning intensely with the desire to cry, and she was determined not to allow her emotions to get the best of her. She'd just had yet another row with Ron about their upcoming trip to Hogsmeade, and how he'd decided that he wanted to go with Harry and Connor as opposed to keeping the date that he and she had made weeks ago. He accused her of being suffocating in front of the entire common room, and made her feel like a daft little girl. She'd heard him calling her name when she took her exit, but once she'd rushed out of the portrait hole he hadn't followed.

Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that it was making her feel light headed. She was running out of reasons for why she should continue her relationship with him. He was lazy, inattentive, immature, lousy at snogging (among other things), and still didn't care at all about doing well in school. He was relying on Harry to be able to get him a job as an Auror when he graduated, because everyone knew Harry was a shoo-in for a position right underneath a Captain. He'd already received letters from multiple departments practically begging him to join them, and Ron knew that Harry would take his best mate with him anywhere he went. It drove Hermione raving mad.

When she had calmed down enough, and her face didn't feel so hot that it could burn through metal, she took a couple deep breaths. She was about to unlock the stall and leave when she heard a familiar voice say, "I wish I knew what Ron was thinking, being so head over heels with Hermione."

She recognized it instantly as Lavender, and swallowed hard, waiting to hear whomever she was with. "Hermione's alright," replied Parvati, which caused her blonde friend to snort in reply.

"Yeah, if you like bossy girls with no personality. You know, I heard that she and Ron still haven't shagged yet, and they've been together about six months. She's such a prude."

"Really, Lav, just because _you_ put out after two weeks doesn't mean that someone who waits is a prude," Hermione felt suddenly grateful for the dark haired girl, glad to have somebody on her side. "And besides all that, who told you that they still haven't gone all the way yet? Was it Ron?"

A silence passed.

"Well?"

"No. I overheard him having a heart-to-heart with Ginny after class one day. He was asking for advice on what he should do to fix up their relationship. He seems very keen on being with her. I just don't understand," she opened the stall next to Hermione, and began to use the toilet, continuing with her conversation as she did, "I mean, she's not even that good looking."

"You know you just sound jealous, right? I thought you got over Ron last year."

"I _was_ over him. He broke my heart, remember? We lost our virginity to each other, and then two weeks later he was crying Hermione's name out in the Hospital Wing as he slept off being poisoned! She ruined our relationship. I knew she was jealous of me the entire time," she flushed, and exited the stall.

"Honestly, Lavender, everyone but you knew that Ron and Hermione had a thing. I mean, could you not see the way he looked at her? I tried to warn you."

"Well, things are different now," she giggled. "Ron and I have been spending a lot of time together, and I think that he's beginning to realize he's made a bad choice in being with her. Everything she does that bothers him, I make it a point to do the opposite. For example, the other day I heard them arguing about how he doesn't spend time with her, so yesterday I popped up to have a chat with him on our way to Charms. I told him about how when I was seeing Seamus I let him go and do whatever he wanted, because I learned from being clingy, and that I thought Hermione was just as bad as I had been. He didn't say much on the subject, but I could tell he was interested in what I was saying. Later that evening he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk, and we had a nice time around the lake, just talking about what we want to do in the future. I asked him if he wanted to marry her, and he said that he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore."

"You're purposely trying to put a wedge in their relationship, are you?" Parvati questioned, sounding almost disgusted. "I think you're just trying to get back at her for what happened in Sixth Year."

"No…I do love Ron. I would be devastated if he married her, and we all know that it would be a mistake. Honestly, I think maybe she gives him a daily dosage of love potion in his pumpkin juice."

"Or maybe he genuinely cares for her."

"Oh, please, who honestly could?"

Parvati sighed. "I _have _heard wind that a certain Slytherin seems to be fancying her. Parkinson was going on and on about it the other day in the courtyard…" their conversation faded as they exited the lavatory together, after Lavender had finished washing her hands.

Hermione sniffled and exited the stall, suddenly feeling torn between a million emotions. Part of her was angry with Lavender for trying to make Ron's feelings for his girlfriend disappear. Hermione had never intentionally done anything to break the two of them up when they'd been together. In fact, she'd avoided Ron during those months, not able to bear being around him. It wasn't her fault that Ron chose to break up with the blonde. Hermione and him still didn't get together until a year later, so it wasn't as though he'd left Lavender for her.

Another part of her was confused. She had been telling herself for weeks that she was falling out of love with Ron, if love had ever really been what she felt for him, but as soon as she thought of someone else being with it made her afraid to lose him. She hated that she felt like now she had to fight for him, because it shouldn't have been that way. She wasn't the type of person to force someone to stay with her. They were either for her, or they weren't. She'd never begged anyone to stay, nor had she ever apologized for something if she didn't feel like she'd done wrong. So asking for Lavender's forgiveness was out of the question, and that meant that she'd have to take more time to figure out what to do about her boyfriend.

The last part of her, which was actually taking up the majority of her mind, was what Parvati had said about Draco. She had wondered why all the sudden he had made fun of her that day in the corridor, as she'd said nothing to him that day to warrant any ill-feelings. She'd only heard the part of the conversation where he'd screamed about her being an ugly Mudblood, and hadn't until the conversation she'd just overheard wondered what had been said prior to that.

She walked up to the mirrors to examine herself in them. Her hair, which now ended just below her breasts, was thick and wavy. She'd stopped pulling it back now that it wasn't as bushy, and she quite liked how it cupped her face. The golden brown color of her hair really brought out her honey brown eyes now that it was down. Her eyes were always her best feature, she'd always thought. From a distance they were a light syrupy color, and up close you could see the speckles of coffee brown. After the war, she'd taken to wearing a light layer of mascara which made her eyes seem to pop out of her head. Her lips, she felt, were a little thin. Her top one was a lot smaller than her bottom one, so she wore a lot of gloss to make them appear bigger than they were.

Now her eyes were slightly blood-shot, and her hair was starting to frizz because she'd ran all the way to the bathroom. Her mascara was smeared from where she'd rubbed her eyes, and her cheeks were bright red from the anger and embarrassment she'd just felt.

She took a moment to correct her looks and adjust her robes. She needed to sort out how she felt about Ron and she needed to do it soon, before she completely ruined their relationship together… She also needed to figure out what she should do about Draco. However, now that they were partners in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she figured she had time to devise a plan.

When she stepped out of the lavatory, she nearly bumped straight into Pansy. "Watch where you're going, Mudblood!" the bigger girl spat, giving Hermione an icy glare as she passed by.

Hermione was in such a foul mood that she literally had to bite her tongue so as to avoid spitting something vehement back. She was tired of being treated the way that she was by Pansy. The girl clearly had it out for her, and it wasn't fair. Hermione never got over when she had called her ugly in Fourth year. She wondered if Pansy had ever glanced in the mirror before, she definitely had no right to insult anyone's looks. "She's so pleasant, isn't she?" A small voice said, and Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin girl next to her, not knowing who she was.

"Always," Hermione replied, unsure where the conversation would be heading, but very eager to not partake in it.

"I'm Astoria," the girl said, holding out a dainty hand as though expecting a handshake.

Hermione eyed her hand suspiciously for a moment, wondering if there was a curse on it, but in the end decided to do it. They were at school, after all, and people were around. What could she possibly plan on doing to her in such a public place. "Hermione Granger," Hermione said, once their brief handshake had ended.

"I know all about you, of course. You're Harry Potter's best mate, yeah?"

Hermione glanced into the blue green eyes of the younger girl in front of her, and instantly felt like she wasn't pretty enough to be standing near her. To think, just a few minutes ago she'd been looking in the mirror and remembering how pretty she was when she wasn't crying, and now she felt as though she had no right to think those thoughts about herself when people like Astoria existed. "One of them, yes." She was still very suspicious about why the Slytherin was talking to her at all, but for the moment she chose to ignore it. Hermione was very intuitive. She figured once the girl dropped any sort of hint towards something that seemed insidious she would pick up on it.

Astoria seemed to be drinking in Hermione's looks as much as Hermione was drinking in hers. She had a slightly smug look on her face, as though she'd heard many things about Hermione's looks, but now that she was seeing her in person she felt as though she'd heard false. "I've actually been hoping that I would run into you," Astoria said, finally tearing her eyes off of the brunette's eyebrows and smiling as though she hadn't just looked disgusted with her.

"Why?" Hermione questioned warily, already knowing the conversation wouldn't end well.

"It seems you and I have a common enemy," Astoria said, motioning for Hermione to walk with her. Hermione hesitated for a moment before falling into step with the her, noticing that Astoria was at least a head taller than her, and very, very thin. "I can't stand Parkinson. She thinks that she runs the place, and has made quite a few people off limits. One of whom I'm sure you know on a personal level." Her eyes seemed to twinkle maliciously at her last statement.

"Are you talking about Malfoy?" Hermione questioned, blinking in surprise. She'd expected nearly one hundred other things for Astoria to approach her about. Draco hadn't even been on the list. She supposed she should have known, though, they were both in Slytherin after all.

"Good, you're keeping up," Astoria grinned. "Anyway, I thought that perhaps the two of us could work together to take Pansy down. And from there, well, we can just part ways and see what happens on our own."

"You're serious?" Hermione cried. "Listen, Astoria, I'm not sure where you've been hearing these rumors but I assure you-"

"Look, _don't_ tell me that I don't know Draco. I've fancied him since my first year here. My sister and him shared a compartment my first time on the Hogwarts Express and I had never before met a man of his character. He's dreamy. I've studied him enough to know that he absolutely despises Pansy, and I've studied him enough to know that currently his eyes are on you. Pansy, however, is making it rather hard to-"

"Astoria, listen," Hermione interrupted, stopping abruptly. "If you've heard that I'm after Draco then you've been misinformed. I do have a boyfriend, one that I've fancied since _I_ started at Hogwarts. If you want Draco then you only need to worry about Pansy and I wish you the best of luck. But I promise you, I want no part of that."

Astoria's cheeks flamed. Hermione couldn't help but feel jealous with how nice she could look when she was fuming compared to herself. "And yet you call him Draco?" She spat. "I'm not an idiot, just so you know, and if you don't want to help with Pansy then that's fine, I'll deal with her on my own. _However_ just know that I don't mind fighting for him, and I _will_. You can play innocent all you want, but I have my own way of getting around. I know more than you think." Hermione swallowed, letting her icy words sink in. She was amazed at how suddenly nervous she felt. "Good day." Astoria said simply, before taking off down the corridor and disappearing around the corner.

**oOo**

The next time the Daily Prophet was delivered, Pansy spit her drink out as she read it, right onto Draco's plate of food. "You're _disgusting_!" he cried, outraged, throwing a napkin on top of it, and pushing it towards her. "Can't you ever just-"

"Goyle's dead!" Pansy cried, causing everyone nearest to her to cease conversation instantly.

"…What?" Draco asked, feeling suddenly lightheaded. Sure, he hadn't heard from his friend in months, but he'd always assumed that it was because they were so well hidden that they didn't want to give away their position, and the fact that the bloke barely knew how to write his name- let alone a letter. Draco had always just taken solace in believing that things were alright there, and had chosen not to allow himself to worry. He'd never once thought that it was possible that he was dead. "What happened?"

Pansy skimmed the article quickly, and then summarized it for the table, "It says that him and his family were discovered in Wales, hiding in a muggle village. The muggle authorities couldn't figure out what had killed them, but once our team got in they knew they had been victims of the killing curse… And that's not all," she said, her eyes widening as she read more. "It also looks like Theodore Nott's family suffered the same fate not too long ago…It says that Theodore wasn't found, just his parents, the same deaths… It looks like someone is going after all the Death Eaters who weren't sentenced to Azkaban. There are a few other names here."

Everyone then glanced at Draco, who felt himself getting nauseous rather quickly. He hadn't received an owl from his parents in almost a month. He tried to make himself feel better by thinking that his uncle Accalon would definitely have told his nephew if something had happened, but then given the bloke's track record – he probably wouldn't.

"All right, Draco?" Daphne questioned, looking concerned for her classmate. "You're looking kind of ill."

"Excuse me," he said, and dashed from the Great Hall.

He hurried to the Owlery, wanting to write a letter to his parents demanding they respond to him. By the time he reached the tower he was out of breath, and had realized that he didn't bring any parchment to write on, nor a quill. He cursed himself out loud, and was just about to head back down to the dungeons to get some, when he noticed he was not alone in the room. "Granger," he spat. "Of course I'd run into you here. What, were you following me?"

She blinked at him, "Actually, I could ask you that. I was here first."

He felt himself turning red. "Well…that's great," he replied, and then realized how tired he was. Not just from his long run to the tower, but from life in general. He was tired of not having any friends, tired of not having any money, tired of his personal business going around like there was no such thing as privacy, tired of girls – _especially_ the one in the room with him- and tired of worrying about his family. He felt older, significantly older. He felt like there was constant pressure building behind his eyes, and now it was getting so strong that his head felt like it was about to explode. He felt overwhelmed to the point of not being able to catch his breath, and took a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall.

He wasn't entirely sure where his breakdown was coming from. It had to have been building. He'd not allowed himself time to grieve when the Dark Lord had been staying in his house, killing people in front of him, threatening to kill _him_, and watching his parents get tortured. He'd held everything in when Crabbe had been stupid and suffered a terribly painful death. He hadn't said a word as he'd spent most of his life after the Dark Lord had been killed eating meals that were barely able to hold him over, watching all of his most valuable and favorite possessions getting sold just to make enough money to ensure he had a roof over his head. He'd taken the beatings without a word after returning to school to find that nobody truly cared about him, or wanted him around…and now his only other closest mate had been found killed, and there was a chance his parents and him were going to suffer the same fate. It was too much to bear.

He hated that Granger was in the room with him, and was witnessing his growing panic attack. Draco felt too weak to pick himself off the floor. He just wanted to lay there until death took him. He no longer cared what happened to him, as he expected the rest of his life to be just as bad as the past few years had been. He was only seventeen years old, for Merlin's sake, and there was no longer anything left that mattered to him. He couldn't have his father pay someone to make his problems disappear. He just had to face them, and facing things was Draco's biggest weakness. He didn't know how.

"Are you okay?" Granger asked, tentatively, from the other side of the room, where she sat with an unsent letter in her hands. "I read the papers. I heard about Goyle. Do you-"

"I need you to go away," Draco said, his voice sounding flat and defeated. "I know you Gryffindors like to think you can just jump in and save everyone…you can't save me. And even if you could – I don't want your help."

She fell silent for awhile, as though mentally debating on whether or not she should leave.

"Why are you still here?" Draco cried, adding as much venom to his words as was possible at the moment.

"Because you need someone," Granger replied, softly. "I won't say anything, I won't tell anybody about this - I know how to keep secrets. But I do want to stay here and make sure you're ok. I can't just leave you."

Draco wanted to tell her to sod off. He wanted to pull out his wand and blow her into pieces. He wanted to push her out of a window and watch her fall to her death.

He wanted her to stay.

In the end, he chose not to say anything. He just sat there with his head buried in his hands, counting his breathing, trying to will his headache to go away. He tried not to think about his parents, tried not to think about Crabbe or Goyle, tried not to think about anything. He practiced closing his mind as he would when using Occlumency, and focused on his breathing.

It wasn't too long after he'd finally caught his bearings that people entered the Owlery. He glanced up to see that Granger had quickly pretended as though she'd been trying to coax an owl to deliver her letter and he felt a surge of gratitude towards her, immediately followed by anger. Mostly at himself. He hated that he felt so taken to her, when in reality there was no reason for it. She was a Mudblood, why did he feel as though he had to constantly remind himself of that? True, she had seen him at his very lowest, and even saved his life once before, but any Gryffindor would have done it. It was in their blood. He didn't hate Potter or Weasley any less, just the bossy bookworm before him. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was feeling like he was. His father would probably murder him if he knew the kind of thoughts his son was currently having.

Thoughts of his father brought him crashing back into the present. The students that had come into the Owlery were still there, being obnoxiously loud and chattering excitedly about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. Granger was still pretending to look for an owl and had sauntered a bit away from him, so he chose that moment to quietly escape.

He was set on getting over his obsession with her as soon as humanly possible.

**oOo**

The next time Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around Professor Delure was late and the door to the classroom was locked. Draco sat on the large window sill that overlooked the courtyard and tapped his wand against his thigh absentmindedly. Pansy seemed to be causing a scene by making fun of some Hufflepuff Draco didn't know, and the Gryffindors were unusually quiet, as though trying to act like they weren't eavesdropping. Not that they would have to, Pansy wasn't exactly whispering.

Draco chose to ignore her and looked for Granger instead, his face becoming hot when he saw her standing next to her boyfriend and holding his hand. He didn't understand why she stayed with him. It was starting to really anger him how pathetic she was when it came to the redhead.

Upon further observation of the crowd he saw the Lavender girl shooting daggers at Granger with her eyes. He studied the blonde for awhile and decided that if it wasn't for her nice body and large chest that she'd never be able to get by with her face alone. She was very plain if Draco had spent the last seven years having DADA with her and had never even noticed her before. She turned and glanced at him, as though she'd felt him staring, and Draco watched a devious smile cross her face. He abruptly turned to face the opposite direction. He didn't like the look she'd given him. He felt like she was the cat and he was the mouse in a game he'd yet to consent to play.

He traced his fingers through the marble grooves on the window sill, letting Pansy's crude story act as comforting background noise while he gathered his thoughts. It had been nearly a week since he'd learned of Goyle's death and he'd yet to speak to anybody except Granger. In Potions the previous day they'd made Happiness Potion, and Slughorn had given Draco some to show the class the effects when it was done right. Draco had used the potion so much the previous year that it no longer did anything except make him a little more alert than he had been, but not so much that it was noticeable.

Slughorn had frowned, wondering if Draco had made the potion right, and given some to Daphne to test. She had started giggling like a madwoman and smiled so big it seemed to make Draco's cheeks hurt just looking at how largely hers had stretched. Slughorn had glanced at Draco in a curious and yet sad way, as though he understood what his student was going through, and asked Draco to stay after class.

When everyone had left the two of them alone the Professor had just told Draco that as head of his house, if he ever needed someone to talk to he could always go and see him. He also gave him a list of potions that he felt might make Draco think less about what was going on and concentrate more on getting through the school year.

The only thing during the week that had given Draco any kind of motivation to continue on with his life was that he had finally heard from his parents. His mother's letter had been very short, explaining that they had been so busy getting settled and trying to get the house ready for when Draco came home for the holidays, she hadn't meant to ignore him. She expressed her condolences for what happened to Goyle and told her son to remain strong, that he was, in fact, the strongest man she'd ever known and she knew he'd get through whatever situation that weighed heavily on him. She told him he had nothing to worry about when it came to his family. Nobody knew where they were staying now, and their situation was very different from the list of Death Eater's that had been in the paper. They had changed sides before the war ended, and celebrated on the Light side. They would be fine. She must have wrote that she loved him a million times in closing.

Draco had taken to reading the note every night before he went to sleep, and took an Anti-Dreaming Draft to help him nod off. The letter had eased his mind by a mile, but still hadn't taken away from the sadness that seemed to surround him like a bubble. He knew that only time would help him feel better, so he spent the majority of his days studying on his DADA assignment he was sharing with Granger and reading up more on advanced Charms to help him improve in the subject.

He knew that he and Granger had a week to practice on how to defeat Inferi before they were sectioned off to fight them, so he had also been spending a lot of time thinking of places where he could go and have nobody around to judge him for being alone with the girl. He'd thought of the Forbidden Forest at first, but to be honest he was afraid to go in there. The library was too crowded. They could probably find an abandoned classroom, he knew of four on the fifth floor alone, but a lot of students used those rooms to relieve their sexual tension, so again, he wasn't sure.

It wasn't until Professor Delure showed up that he had the winning thought that perhaps it was time to see the situation in the Room of Requirement.

**A/N: **Thanks to my reviewers and to my beta BrightneeBee. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!


	7. Chapter 7

**Woes of a Coward**

**Chapter Seven**

The following night in the library, Hermione felt the presence of someone else near her, and stiffened slightly, looking around. She'd been doing intensive reading on Inferi and taking a numerous amounts of notes, ignoring her hand cramps and the world around her for so long that she was surprised to glance out the window and see that it was dark outside. "I didn't see you at dinner," said an all-too familiar voice, causing her spine to break out in goosebumps.

"Were you looking for me, Malfoy?" She questioned, her stomach suddenly rumbling as though being reminded that it hadn't eaten made it hungry.

He hesitated for a moment, and for the slightest instant she swore she thought that he looked almost nervous, but it was instantly replaced by his usual sneer. "I was just thinking about our Defense Against the Dark Arts project that's due in a few days, and I glanced over at your table and noticed that you were missing. I thought I might find your boyfriend in here, but it seems I was mistaken…Not that I'm upset by that."

Hermione's pulse instantly increased. She knew that Draco was obviously lying. He had to have been looking for her more than just once to realize she hadn't been to dinner at all, and it seemed that he cared about whether or not Ron tended to her feelings. Thoughts of the conversation between her and Astoria replayed in her head and she wondered if the whole thing was true. If maybe Draco _did_ fancy her. It was almost too much to wrap her mind around. "What about our assignment?" She asked, deciding that school work was far more important than anything else that was currently running through her brain.

"This note trade-off thing we do each time we see each other isn't exactly doing any good," Draco said, in a way that made Hermione think he'd been practicing what to say before he said it. "Half the time your notes are the same notes that I've taken and vice-versa – that's not really benefiting us. We have about a week before we have to fight the Inferi and we haven't practiced yet… I was thinking that maybe we should meet up sometime and work on some of those spells."

Hermione blinked, instantly agreeing. "You're right, that's actually a good idea. Do you think Professor Delure would let us practice in his classroom?...No, I don't suppose he would, would he, they sleep in their offices and we'd be far too loud…Hmm…"

Draco seemed to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, actually, I was just at the Room of Requirement earlier, to see if it still worked…and it does. The Room of Hidden Things is nothing but a burnt mess, but it seems if you think of anything else it works just fine. So I tried to make it into a room where we could practice casting defensive spells and it did."

Hermione chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"I bet it would turn into the same room it became when we had our DA meetings in there," she said, picking up her books. "When should we start?"

"Uh…well," Draco began, and turned a little pink, as though he hadn't expected her to agree so easily. "Everyone's going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, so, what about Sunday?"

"Actually, I think I'm skipping this Hogsmeade trip," Hermione said quietly, remembering that Ron had chosen to blow off their date. It still stung quite a bit to be tossed aside so easily.

"Well, why don't we meet up during the trip then? The castle will be nearly deserted so we'll have plenty of privacy, and you won't have to explain where you're disappearing to," Hermione watched him as he completely avoided her eyes, pretending to be really interested in the section of magical cookbooks. She couldn't help but wonder if them being alone together would be a good idea or not. Given the circumstances it seemed as though the smart thing for her to do would be to suggest they practice somewhere out in the open. She feared what might happen if they were shut up in a room by themselves.

"That sounds fine," she finally agreed, shaking all ill thoughts from her head. "Why don't we just meet in that corridor when everyone leaves for the trip?"

Draco looked as though he were about to agree, when suddenly a loud, "Oi!" caused the two of them to jump. Hermione felt her face flush as her boyfriend stormed over to them, his face already red with anger. "Ferret, leave her the hell alone!" He spat, shoving the shorter boy as soon as he neared them.

Draco lost his footing and stumbled into the bookshelf, but otherwise remained collected looking. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that it was illegal for me to merely converse with her in the library," he spat, venom in his voice.

"We were just discussing our project in Professor Delure's class," Hermione said quickly, rising to her feet to step between the two boys. "He wasn't doing anything, Ron."

Ron looked as her almost as though he felt betrayed, and then shot an evil glance back at Draco. "You just need to watch your back," he said.

"Oh, do I?" Draco snapped, and seemed to be about to continue with his heated words before Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and started to usher him out of the library. She'd never felt so embarrassed before, and couldn't believe Ron had caused such a scene over the two of them simply talking.

Ron shrugged her off angrily as soon as they'd stepped into the corridor. "You know what, Hermione, I've had it!" He cried, attempting to storm off.

"What? Ron!" Hermione practically ran to keep up with his giant strides. "We were just-"

"Discussing your project, yeah, so you claim. I've heard the two of you were getting rather cozy in an abandoned classroom the other day, or is that a farce as well?"

"What on earth are you talking about? Who told you that?"

"That doesn't matter! Look, if you care about our relationship at all, then you'll come with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow. We'll dedicate an entire day to just us, I'll tell the guys to sod off…I don't want to lose you, Hermione. I love you."

She felt dizzy once he'd spoken the words. He'd never said them out loud before, though he'd hinted it plenty, and deep down she knew he felt that way about her. But thinking it and hearing it were two totally different things. She wasn't sure what to do now, what to say. She loved Ron, didn't she? All those years she had wasted crying over him, pining over him, smelling him when she inhaled a love potion, hating her life when he ran off and abandoned her and Harry… How could all of that go away so easily? How could seven years of longing for a person turn into nothing a few months into a relationship?

Ron's face seemed to fall as she took so long to gather her thoughts. He glanced into her eyes for a moment, his blue ones looking defeated and tired, before she spoke. "I love you too, Ron," she said quietly.

He grinned, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her hard. She let his passion take control of the moment they shared, but her heart wasn't in it. It felt like it was sinking into the pit of her stomach at the moment and flipping around so hard she felt as though she were going to be sick. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? For Ron to come around, to care what she did and want to spend time with her – she'd been wanting this for months.

So why did it feel as though it were too late?

Around the corner Astoria grinned to herself. _That was easier than I thought_, she mused, before heading to the library to see if Draco was still around.

**oOo**

Draco had been waiting by the Room of Requirement for a good ten minutes. He'd come a little earlier than he should have, because Pansy and Ralph had apparently broken up the previous evening and she was back to following Draco around like a lost puppy. She'd tried to get him to forgive her by even offering sexual favors, but all it did was make his stomach churn.

He was still in a foul mood because of what had happened yesterday in the library between him and Weasley. He had no idea what caused that stupid git to suddenly snap and go off on him like he'd committed some sort of crime. Draco had almost followed the couple out just to hex the prat when his back was turned but used all of his will-power to resist the urge, and instead hurried out of the library and back to the dungeons, where he retired to his dormitory earlier than usual. He hadn't slept much, however. All he could think about was Weasley and how Granger had agreed to be alone with him in the Room of Requirement the following day. He had a very lucid dream in which the two of them were in his bedroom in Malfoy Manor practicing spells, and she had leaned in to kiss him… Well, he didn't want to think about that right now.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and straightened up, running his hands down his shirt to smooth it out, and then leaning against the wall trying to seem bored. His posture slipped when he saw that it wasn't Granger coming towards him, but rather Astoria. She tossed her long dark brown hair over her shoulders and strode up to him, pouty lips wet with gloss he had the urge to lick off. In fact, she looked nicer than usual today, in regular clothes that accentuated her curves as opposed to the school robes he'd grown accustomed to seeing her in. She wore boots that had a heel on them, and he wondered briefly how safe that could be, before he decided it didn't matter, she looked nice regardless.

She was already tall, and with her shoes on she seemed to be almost his height, making him feel as though _he_ were short. When she smiled at him he smiled back out of habit, though he did try to fight it. She annoyed him. He needed to keep remembering that. She was good looking, but that didn't matter once she started talking. "You're not coming to Hogsmeade?" She questioned, blinking at him with her fierce blue-green eyes.

"I…no. I'm actually going to stay and work on my Defense Against the Dark Arts project," he admitted.

"Oh…I just would have thought the Mudblood would be with you, don't you both have that assignment together? And it's Saturday; surely she'd want to be here so you could work on it with some privacy?" The way she spoke almost made him wonder if she'd heard their conversation the previous night.

"She should be here soon."

"Really? I just saw her leaving to go to Hogsmeade with Potter and her redhead boyfriend…look." She motioned for Draco to follow her to the window and pointed down at the crowd that was beginning to leave. Draco glanced around at all of them for awhile, they were hard to tell apart since they all wore heavy winter clothing and hats, but there she was. Standing next to Weasley as though she hadn't made plans elsewhere.

Draco felt himself get angry. He was _livid_. "Well…" his voice trailed off. He wasn't sure how to turn the conversation around in a way that didn't make him look like a bloody fool, but luckily Astoria saved him.

"My uncle is working at the Hogs Head today, because that Dumbledore bloke is on vacation for a bit. You should come with me, we'll drink some firewhiskey…It'll be on the house," she added, eyes twinkling.

He found himself agreeing before he even thought about what he was agreeing to. "I'll get my coat," he said, and she looped her arm through his and walked with him down to the dungeon.

**oOo**

Firewhiskey proved to be a bad idea. Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything alcoholic to drink, and because it had been so long he found himself getting sloshed not too many drinks in. At first he and Astoria had been sitting by themselves, but it didn't seem like any time at all had passed before they were joined by Daphne, her boyfriend Stan, two of Astoria's female friends, Ralph, and Pansy. Draco had drank much more than he knew he could handle because he wanted to keep up with the lot of them, who seemed to down each drink as though it were water and still be as composed as they had been when they first arrived.

Draco found himself swaying in his seat and grinning, broadly. Bigger than he could ever remember stretching his cheeks, and feeling genuinely happy. It felt nice to be included with others once again, even if they weren't the kind of people he could ever see himself growing close to. For the first time in what felt like ages he just allowed his mind to shut off and his walls to come down. To just enjoy what was happening and not focus on what had, and what was, and what would.

He felt Astoria's fingers as they teased the hairs on the back of his neck and he felt himself shivering in delight. She seemed unaware of what her hands were doing to him, because she was engrossed in conversation with the darker skinned friend of hers, laughing about something Draco knew nothing about. He avoided glancing in Pansy's direction even though he knew she was shooting him desperate looks; he didn't want anything to ruin his day.

He lifted his mug to finish off his fourth drink when he saw, over the rim, Granger, her boyfriend, Potter, and that other annoying Weasley girl that dated Potter that nobody could stand enter. Draco poured a bit too much of his drink into his mouth, surprised to see them in a pub like the one they were in, and coughed, choking on the amount of liquid that had gone down his throat. Astoria scooted away from him, as though afraid he was about to hurl on her, and then she followed his gaze. He watched her eyes narrow for a moment, her cheeks turn a bit pink, and then it went away so quickly he had half a mind to wonder if he'd just imagined it.

"Seems they let just anyone come in here these days," she said, loudly, obviously wanting to be overheard.

If the Trio had heard the insult, however, they didn't act like it. They were talking about something that seemed to be pretty hilarious, for all of them but Granger were laughing. Since Draco's crowd had apparently lost interest (no need to fight them anymore, most of the Houses just got on and ignored each other these days), and were dedicated to just getting as pissed as possible, Draco took the time to glance back at the brunette. He watched her feign a smile when her boyfriend glanced at her, but saw it fade when he looked away. He wondered if she was feeling back for standing him up, and he hoped she did. If he truly didn't need to work on this assignment with her, he'd stand _her_ up and let her know how it felt, but as he was stuck working with her until Valentine's Day, he knew he'd have to suck it up.

But that didn't mean he would forgive her.

"Why don't we go outside?" Astoria's suggested softly into his ear, causing him to jump.

In all honesty, he wanted anything _but_ to go outside and be alone with her. But given the Trio was sitting closest to the door, he knew that if he walked out with her, that Granger would get a good view of it. And maybe she wouldn't think that she'd stood him up. Maybe she would assume he'd planned on standing _her_ up, and then she'd feel as stupid as he felt. "Alright," he answered, rising to his feet, ignoring how dizzy he felt upon standing, and shrugging on his coat.

She slipped her hand in his, and he took it, if nothing else than to help with his balance, and thought about how soft they were. _Too_ soft, actually. They felt like solid lotion, there was no grip whatsoever. If he were falling, he felt as though his hand would slide right off of them…However, he could think of a few things that they would be good for…

_Don't think about that,_ he warned himself, blinking hard. He was pissed. He didn't want to make a decision he knew he'd regret once he'd sobered up, just because the idea of getting some action. Sure, Astoria was good looking, and he knew guys were beginning to envy him for her interest, but he couldn't possibly enjoy a life with her. She was no better than Pansy, and there was a long list of reasons he was glad to be done with that part of his life.

When they reach Granger's table, he saw her glance up at him and do a double-take. Weasley saw him and glared, but otherwise said nothing. "All right, Hermione?" Astoria question, shooting her a beaming grin, her voice sounding so pleasant Draco almost wondered if they were friends and he had imagined the hostility earlier.

Granger simply nodded, face red, and looked away from them, as though concentrating hard on her butterbeer.

Astoria continued to walk with Draco and lead back into the fierce cold, that pierced his skin, and seemed to have an almost sobering effect. _Great_, he thought. Now he was outside with her, he'd done what he wanted to do, which was have Granger see him, and he hadn't thought the rest of this out. He hadn't actually wanted to be alone with Astoria, and that was exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

There wasn't much wind, it was just a piercing cold outside, so he couldn't even say the weather was too bad for them to be out long. He knew as well as she did that once they started walking they would warm up, that if they hadn't just been so toasty in the pub that the weather would be fine.

Silently they fell into step together, and he waited for the inevitable conversation. "So, Draco, does it bother you that I asked for Pansy to join us?" Her tone was innocent. She was hard to predict, honestly. He could tell that she was a good liar and manipulator, because if he hadn't already known that she'd purposefully invited Pansy, he might actually assume she hadn't thought anything of it. He felt a wall go up around him. Clearly she wasn't the type of person to get on the bad side of. He'd thought Pansy was bad, but Pansy was at least upfront about it. There was no wondering if she were mad or deliberately doing something... If Pansy was doing something that bothered you, she _was_ doing it deliberately.

"I know it wasn't an accident," he said simply, and he felt her hand twitch in his, and wondered why he was still holding it.

She paused for a moment, and then seemed to shake herself out of it. "Well, I guess that's true… I'll be honest with you. Her and I have a bit of a competition for you going on."

"You don't say," he said flatly.

"It's just a silly thing between girls. Pansy knew I liked you because of my sister, and she has always felt a little threatened by me. When I started at Hogwarts I thought for sure she would hex me anytime she caught me looking at you."

He frowned, a little surprised by her confession. "You liked me…even back then? Why?" Draco wasn't oblivious. He knew he'd come a long way from the scrawny kid he'd been back in the day, with a face only a Mother could truly love. He would cringe at old photographs of himself, and curse anybody who dared to mention it. He knew that was the reason him and Pansy had been together for so long; they had been as equally unattractive with no other prospects so they'd clung together. Sometime in Draco's Fifth year everything had changed, and he'd come into himself, and left Pansy far behind… It was hard to fathom someone as pretty as Astoria, who had _always_ been just as attractive as she was now, wanting him back when she first started, as he was just a Third year and still gawky looking.

She smiled, "I think it was your confidence. You spoke like you had nothing to worry about... Like one day you were going to rule and everyone would be beneath you. Everyone looked to you, especially me."

The bitter question that was on the tip of his tongue to ask was why she still liked him _now_. He wasn't the person she described anymore. He'd fallen from glory, and hard, at that. There was no longer that appeal.

"I know that person is still in there," she said, as though she'd expected his reaction. "I'll do what I can to bring him back."

At those words he snatched his hand away. "You think I want your help?" He spat, temper rising. "Maybe that's not the person I want to be anymore. Maybe the person I am now is who I'm going to be. So if you can't accept that-"

"Is that why you seem so taken with the Mudblood?" She interrupted, her temper clearly rising as well. "Is she brainwashing you into believing that you _have_ to stoop as low as her-?"

"You know _nothing_ about Granger, alright, so leave her out of this. And you know nothing about _me_ for that matter, either. Everyone seems to be running round thinking that she's put some kind of spell on me –"

"Because the Draco _we know_ wouldn't waste his time even speaking to her. The Draco we know would sit by and let her do all the work and take the glory for it like he'd done in the past. The Draco-"

"_But you don't know me!_" He cried, realizing how loud his voice had gotten, and had echoed across the buildings they were standing between, causing people to turn and try to find the source of the outburst. "None of you know me. I'm not the person I used to be, and even when I was that person, I didn't want to be him." He wasn't sure why that had slipped out, it must have been the firewhiskey, because that thought alone was one that had only begun to plague him recently. He _did _wonder if he had been happy before, or simply feigning it.

Astoria simply started at him for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft. "I don't know you, you're right. I _want_ to get to know you. This new person you are, or even the person you become… We're a lot alike, you know. It's like we feel we have to put on a farce, and act like someone we're not, because if we're not the best, then what are we, really?" He stayed silent. He wasn't convinced she wasn't just saying what she thought he wanted to hear. But the way she spoke the words, the tears glittering in her eyes…how he wanted to believe her.

He'd always felt alone, and maybe he wasn't the only one who felt it. Maybe Astoria was being honest, and he was seeing the real side of her now, as opposed to the fake side in the Hogs Head, who tried to seem completely in control.

The alcohol in his system seemed to momentarily take over again, because he found that one moment he was just looking at her, and the next they were mouth to mouth, his hands were everywhere from her sides, to her face, to her hair. He could feel her lip gloss making his lips stick to hers, smell something similar to apples in her hair, taste the firewhiskey on her tongue. Despite himself, he was thoroughly enjoying feeling lips on his that weren't Pansy's. The way Astoria matched his passion felt unbelievably real, and he was too drunk to really be confused. Maybe her words weren't true, maybe she was saying all of it just to get him, but wasn't it enough that she wanted to get him? She knew he had absolutely nothing to offer her, and that seemed to be alright with her.

When they finally broke apart, she smiled at him, and that was when it hit him what'd he'd done. He tried to return her grin, but his was faulty, flickered on for a moment, before turning back off. No, this wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to be with someone he couldn't trust, he didn't want to be with someone who liked revenge. He'd had enough of people mind-fucking him, the Dark Lord was gone. He wanted that part of him that gave into everything like a coward to leave with him. Astoria might be someone his parents would approve of, and someone with connections to get him on at the Ministry and therefore start to repair the damaged Malfoy name, but he didn't know that it would be the right path.

Maybe there could be chemistry, one day, he thought to himself, as she laced her hand with his again and began to walk, wanting them to find a more private area for them to explore each other some more.

In the meantime it couldn't hurt to snog a bit and let loose some built up frustration…right?

**oOo**

Hermione was crestfallen.

She'd felt awful when she'd left to go with Ron this morning. It had happened so quickly, she hadn't been able to do anything she'd planned. She had gotten up early and gone to have breakfast alone, hoping to see Draco in the Great Hall and explain to him that she needed to reschedule, but he hadn't been there. She'd tried to library and the Owlery as well, to no avail. Around 10 o'clock, the time everyone was starting to meet up, she had been on her way to their meeting point, when Ron had grabbed her and dragged her outside.

She had tried to tell him she would just be a minute longer, but the look he gave her told her that they were going to have a row if she did. "I'm sure Malfoy can manage an afternoon without you," he'd said, his tone sounding jealous and slightly hurt.

"It's not that, Ron, it's just that I did promise him we could work on our Defense Against the Dark Arts project and he's expecting me to be there. If I can just go and let him know that I have other plans-"

"Since when do Malfoy's feelings matter?" He cried. "You don't want him to be upset with you, yeah?"

"It's not that, Ron, you know it's not-"

"Well that's a bit how it sounds," he snarled. "I'm not your keeper, Hermione, if you want to study, then go study." His voice sounded so depressed at that moment that she began to feel bad. "I just though, you know, fresh start and all..."

She took her hand in his and forced a smile. "Alright, you're right. He'll be fine... Let's go."

The scene had continued to replay itself in her head as they'd joined the others and gone shop to shop, finally deciding to visit Aberforth and hang out in the Hogs Head, since it had been awhile since they'd heard from him.

Ginny was describing in great detail how a fellow Gryffindor had fallen asleep in Professor Binn's class and woke up screaming about being out of pudding, causing the group of them, minus Hermione, to bust out laughing, when she felt someone's eyes on the back of her head.

She did a quick glance around the Hogs Head and saw a group of Slytherin's drinking what she presumed to be firewhiskey, an older man who was almost completely covered by his robe, and a lone witch in the corner, far too intoxicated to focus on anything. Assuming it had been Astoria, she returned her attention back to the group beside her, but her thoughts weren't on the conversation.

Instead, she found herself watching Harry and Ginny, how he would smile at her with so much affection she could feel it in her own bones, and watched him twirl strands of her hair around his finger, and she would beam at him, and they would share a small kiss. It made her heart ache. Ron seemed to know how she was feeling, for he moved his chair closer to hers and slung his arm around the back of it, rubbing her shoulders, but it just felt _wrong_. Seven months ago it would have given her chills, it would have made her smile. But perhaps, and she was starting to realize it now, it was just simply too late for the two of them.

She wouldn't have noticed Draco at all had it not been for Ron's grip on her to suddenly tighten, in what she assumed was an almost possessive gesture. She looked up, and saw herself looking directly into Astoria's blue-green eyes, and then to her hand, that was laced with the boy who for some reason never left her thoughts. "All right, Hermione?" Astoria had said, her voice syrupy sweet, before grinning at Draco and continuing to lead him away.

Despite herself, Hermione watched them go, her dark mood getting successfully worse, though she hadn't thought it could go any lower. So, he'd come to Hogsmead after all. Perhaps he'd planned this entire thing out – to make Hermione blow off having a good time with her friends just to show up with Astoria, who was apparently gloating because they were now an item.

"Astoria and Malfoy, huh?" Ginny said, bringing her back to the present. "Well, I never saw that coming."

"I can't see him with anyone but Parkinson. I've heard Astoria's alright." Harry said, taking another sip of his butterbeer.

Ginny scoffed, "You don't know her, then. I suppose you just fancy her because she's gorgeous?"

"Not half as gorgeous as you," he replied, kissing his girlfriend, who rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please," but she smiled and kissed him back, obviously happy about his answer.

Ron removed his hand from the back of Hermione's chair, and she was very aware that he was studying her face, but she couldn't pretend anymore. She knew if he looked up that her expression would give everything away, and right now she simply couldn't handle doing it.

She tried to hold it together for the remainder of the trip, thinking that she should probably speak to Ron the following day and break it to him gently. He was brooding, however, he'd never been good at hiding his emotions, especially anger. He at least seemed to realize he was putting everyone else in a foul mood, so he wandered away from the group a few different times, just simply saying he had a lot on his mind.

On their walk back to the castle Ginny and Harry held hands and walked near them, but Ron kept his hands in his coat pockets, kicking at rocks on the ground, and not speaking.

"I can't _believe_ Draco and Astoria!" someone cried, causing Hermione to glance up.

Lavender and Parvati. Of course.

"I know! Did you see them outside of Honeydukes? I thought they'd never quit snogging!" Lavender said, and Hermione wondered if it was said as loudly as it was just so she'd overhear. "Astoria is gorgeous. I mean, Draco's a handsome guy and all, but that's all he has going for him right now. How long do you think they'll last?"

"Forever, I'm sure," Parvati replied. "You know he's not engaged or anything, and it's almost time for him to find someone. Malfoy's always marry by 19, and he's only got a year left. All she needs to do is keep him a few more months and that'll be that…"

They continued their conversation, passing by, and after awhile Hermione could no longer hear what they were saying.

Hermione took a deep breath. Maybe she should just let it go. Deep down, she knew she wasn't the girl for him. She knew that even if she could convince him to get over the fact that she wasn't a pureblood that she wouldn't be able to convince his family, and that would come easily for someone like Astoria.

Upon thinking about her, however, Hermione's blood began to boil. Astoria was used to getting what she wanted, and stepping over anyone in the process. Hermione hadn't even begun to fight yet.

Astoria was going to have to try a little harder than that.

**A/N: **So…it's been a few years lol. I kind of had a lot going on, as in, getting pregnant and having a baby, and then celebrating her first birthday. It was hectic and I wasn't able to do much time writing, but now that she's older it's gotten easier. I just found my outline for this the other day and after re-reading it I decided to pick it up again. I hope that there are still readers out there.

Let me know what you think! :)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This was a fast update for me! I wrote and rewrote this entire chapter twice before I decided I was content with it. The outline I've written out for this story actually had a few more events that were supposed to take place in this one, but it started to get too long (for my tastes) so I broke it up.

I feel like I do need to kind of reiterate the fact that this is a slower-paced story when it comes to Draco and Hermione, but we ARE starting to get there.

One thing, however, I wasn't sure where the disappearing step is actually located in the book, so if I'm completely wrong on that part, don't hate me too much!

Enjoy! (And review! Those make me happy! :] )

**Woes of a Coward**

**Chapter Eight**

Draco awoke to a headache so strong it made him nauseous, and his stomach churned further when the smell of something similar to cinnamon apples filled his nostrils. Who in their right mind would bring oatmeal into their dormitory after a night like the last one, he'd thought angrily, and that was when a figure on his bed shifted.

Despite the fact that he'd felt so sore that he thought he couldn't move for fear of his body simply exploding, he leapt from his bed at a lightning pace, his heart racing so fast that he became dizzy and had to grab his nightstand to steady himself. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out what sounded like five stadiums of Quidditch fans screaming, magnified at top volume in his mind. His head would surely split open if he made anymore sudden movements, and he was tempted to just allow the sensation to black out take over. He'd deal with how he felt in a few more hours when there wasn't a female in his bed.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and glanced at the sleeping figure. When he saw the chestnut hair he breathed out, relieved, at least, that it wasn't Pansy… Before dread took over him again, because he knew it was Astoria.

His blankets were draped over her, all he could see was her neck, it was, after all, freezing in the dungeons. He said a silent plead to Merlin, hoping that they'd just fallen asleep talking, but after he pulled the sheets down that dream was crushed. She was stark naked. _Oh fuck…_he thought. _…But_… Despite his emotions, he lifted the sheets a little higher to see what she was supporting, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like what he saw.

Then came the real problem, however. He remembered nothing. In fact the last thing he could recall at all was coming to the dungeons to continue to have a party with the rest of the Slytherin. There had been more firewhiskey that Astoria had charmed into looking like butterbeer to smuggle in (Draco had been mildly impressed at that – that was NEWT level magic, after all and she was two years younger than him), a game of strip Exploding Snap, he briefly recalled a bunch of singing, and after that his mind went black, as though part of his memory were simply erased. He'd been pissed before, far more pissed than this, actually, but never before had he woken up with someone in his bed and couldn't recall how she'd gotten there. Well, to be honest, he'd never been with a girl aside from Pansy, and he had to be very bladdered to get to the point to knock boots with her regardless, yet he could still remember every time. Whether he wanted to or not.

His feet were beginning to turn ice-cold from the floor, and he grabbed his discarded robes and threw them on. He was going to see Madame Pomfrey about getting something for his splitting headache and hopefully try and make some sense of the evening. Plus, he didn't want to be there when Astoria woke up.

He walked as fast as his body would allow him, which was actually a rather slug-like pace, and left the dormitory, closing the door behind him as gently as possible. The common room was a sight to see. There were people sleeping all over, looking half-dead, and it smelled horrid. He actually had to walk over two different puddles of the results of too much drinking, and he was sure his face was as green as their furniture. He stopped and rested against the door once he'd finally gotten out of there, to take several deep breaths, afraid he'd get sick if he didn't.

It took a full minute for the wave of nausea to pass before he could push himself off the door and continue on.

That particular walk to the Hospital Wing was the longest walk he'd ever done. He cursed that it was on the third floor, and cursed even more when he forgot about the disappearing step that caused him to tumble and nearly fall. He'd never felt so happy to see Madame Pomfrey in his life, and made up some story he was sure she could see through about how he thought he had a bug of some sort. He could hear her muttering under her breath but couldn't tell what it was she was saying as she searched around through her potions. He was too fixated on feeling better to smart off to her like he'd always done in the past, and even mumbled a brief, "Thanks," once she handed a small glass to him to drink.

He could tell she'd given him only the mere minimum, clearly not wanting to go out of her way to make him completely well when she knew it was his own fault he felt as he did. The small potion eased his pounding migraine to a lingering ache, but it did make his nausea disappear. He felt loads better, but on any normal day if he'd felt how he did at that moment he would have gone to her to make himself feel one-hundred percent again. Still, it was the best he could have hoped for, given the situation.

"I suppose I should make a whole batch?" She called out to him, before he could leave. "I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you, correct?"

He shrugged noncommittally, though he could tell she took it as a yes, and then headed to the Great Hall to hopefully grab something to eat. He felt ravenous all the sudden and he thought food would probably clear away the rest of his headache.

The Great Hall was almost empty. Breakfast would be ending in about thirty minutes and all the good stuff was usually gone by then. The Slytherin table only held two girls, both who looked like they were First Years, and Draco seated himself as far away from them as possible. He filled his plate with sausage and French toast, pouring the syrup into its own little bowl for dipping. He didn't like making messes, especially with his food, he hated for anything on his plate to ever touch.

He was enjoying the quiet buzz of conversations, the food that though it had been sitting out still tasted fresh and warm, and the fact that he was alone, when he felt his spine stiffen and then he got chills. He glanced up and looked around the room, a little nervous, and then his eyes settled on the Gryffindor table. Weasley. He had a plate in front of him but he hadn't touched anything. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was glaring.

Draco stabbed his fork through a sausage link and held it up towards the lanky Gryffindor in a "_cheers!_" like fashion, grinned broadly, and took a bite. Weasley's face turned bright red, nearly matching the color of his hair, and Draco smirked despite himself. Satisfaction at clearly doing _something _right in life for the freckled git to still be letting him get under his skin made the rest of his headache disappear entirely. He finished his meal happily, the events of the morning momentarily forgotten.

**oOo**

Hermione's hair was wild.

True, it was always wild, but today it seemed like nothing she did made it calm down any. She'd even gone as far as to borrow Miracle Potion from a Fourth Year named Brandy who happened to have the same frizzy hair, and though it had calmed it down some, her hair still looked like a lion's mane.

Hermione spent nearly twenty minutes in the bathroom trying to do something to tame it, but in the end she sighed, exasperated, and gave up. She only had about a half hour left until breakfast ended, so she might as well go and just deal with it as it was. It was Sunday, after all, and it wasn't as if she'd be spending all day in and out of classrooms feeling self-conscious of people not being able to see over the volume of her hair. That had been an issue when she was younger, before she discovered magical hair potions, and now she was starting to think she'd used them so much her hair had become immune to them.

When she entered the Great Hall she hesitated in the entrance. Ron was sitting, alone, glaring over at Draco, who looked to be very pleased to be eating whatever it was he was eating. She'd not thought that Harry wouldn't be here, and to be honest she didn't want to deal with Ron alone. Especially considering she could tell he was in one of his moods he found himself in so often lately. She'd been putting off having the break-up talk with him, however, and she felt that if he lost his temper again this morning that maybe it might benefit her. Then she could simply blame the break-up over his irrationality.

She knew that was a horrible thing to do, but the thought of such an easy exit gave her confidence the boost it needed for her to make her way over to him.

She stood at across from him, and then realized she'd been kidding herself earlier. She felt nervous all over again and thought her plan was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever come up with. "Ahem," she quietly cleared her throat. "May I sit down?" She questioned, feeling more and more ludicrous as the time passed.

He nodded briefly and she sat across from him effectively blocking his view of Draco, noticing that his entire body was stiff. She'd been about to speak, though what she was going to say she was unsure of, but he beat her to it. "I don't want to lose you," he said. He was still stiff, and looking down at his plate of food now, avoiding her eyes. "So tell me what I can do to fix this...if anything. If it's that I don't hang over you like Harry and Ginny, or that I spend more time with my mates more than you, or...I don't know," he looked up at her, finally, anger gone. Now he just looked incredibly depressed. "I can't stand the thought of you not being with me. I've been wanting this for years, I finally get it, and I'm mucking it up like I do everything. Don't throw this away. Just tell me how I can change."

His words made her heart melt. The voice in her head that was practically screaming earlier that he was wrong for her was now whispering, _what if?_ What if Ron _was_ for her? She _had _spent seven years trying to get him, seven years of friendship and she couldn't deny he'd been her first _real_ love. Sure, she didn't feel it for him all the time, but it couldn't be said that she felt nothing for him all the time. Maybe that was what love was, what did she know? Maybe they should attempt to work through it. After all, Ron was here begging for another chance, and Draco was sitting alone at his table, content to be that way. There wasn't a future with the Slytherin. _But is there one with Ron, either?_ She asked herself sadly. "Ron..." She began quietly, not sure what to say.

"All I'm asking is you give me until after Christmas. It's a few weeks away. And when the new year starts, if you still feel the same, then we'll part mutually and that will be that. But be mine until then." His tone was practically pleading.

She knew that this was very out of character for him. Ron was stubborn, he could go the rest of his life angry at someone if they didn't apologize first, so this was a huge step out of his comfort zone. She owed him that much, right? What was a few weeks, after all? "Alright...We'll just enjoy the holiday and see how things go."

She hated how she'd given in so easily. When he smiled at her and held her head across the table she felt her stomach churn guiltily. It made her sad to think that not too long ago this simple gesture would have made her feel butterflies. How had things changed so quickly, anyway?

Ron began to eat then, as though he'd been starving, his mood obviously lifted. Despite herself, Hermione did feel the corners of her mouth begin to lift in a smile. She did care about him, after all, and she liked to see him happy.

They soon began to converse about things that were just natural for them. He listened to her rant about her Arithmancy assignment she'd rewritten three times, he teased her, he made his usual outrageous jokes that caused her to use her signature stern tone with him, and they laughed together. The tight knot that had taken over her stomach from the moment she saw him in the Great Hall had disappeared completely by the time they'd finished their meal, and they sat there happily continuing their conversation long after the food disappeared. Ron invited her to go for a walk around the grounds and she found herself instantly agreeing to the idea.

Maybe, she thought, it wasn't always such a horrible thing to be wrong.

**oOo**

Draco stormed into the men's bathroom, slamming the door behind him and glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He'd been in a great mood until he had to watch the displays of affection between the Mudblood and her disgusting boyfriend, and suddenly his nausea and headache had returned like it had never left. His hands were literally shaking from his anger, and he'd gripped the basin tightly to attempt to calm himself down.

_Why_ was he feeling like this? What feeling _was_ this, anyway? It felt like the more he thought he had gotten his mind wrapped around an idea of how he felt, something happened and he felt completely different. He had to tell himself numerous times it was jealousy that was making him want to hex the next person he saw, but rather just the thought of a blood-traitor and a Mudblood producing more filth for wizardkind. His father would feel the same, right? Anybody would, it was only normal.

Of course, Draco knew he was only fooling himself and after a moment he simply gave into it (after kicking the sink so many times he felt for sure he'd broken his toe). He _liked_ the Mudblood. He didn't know why. She wasn't even that attractive, she wasn't working with much of a bosom, and she had no respectable blood qualities. Sure, she was brilliant, and passionate, and brave, but he could find that anywhere. Astoria was probably all of those things _and_ she looked great.

He took a shaky breath, and squeezed his eyes closed. He would just have to spend more time with Granger, that was all, and maybe the more time he spent around her the more annoyed with her he'd become and then everything would go back to normal. He knew that plan was ridiculous at best, but it was the only one he had at the time, because he _couldn't_ avoid her because of that pathetic project they were stuck working on until Valentine's Day.

He abruptly left the bathroom when a Hufflepuff he didn't recognize stepped inside, and bumped straight into Astoria.

She looked dreadful. Her eyes were swollen as though she couldn't bare to keep them open because the light was too much, her hair had been thrown back into a sloppy bun, and her clothes were wrinkled as though she'd just grabbed the first thing she could find, and it had been found at the bottom of her trunk. Stripped of her make-up she was just average looking, but _Merlin_, her eyes were always bright that he could never truly look away from them.

He couldn't think of a single thing to say to her, so he remained quiet.

"Madame Pomfrey ran out of potion," Astoria said, her voice quiet. "I was actually hoping to find you. I forged a note saying she's given me permission to brew some from Professor Slughorn, and you're the best in Potions in school. Will you help me?"

The compliment raised his ego, and the sneaky way she'd got around not having anything to help with her hangover was all it took for him to set aside their evening and to agree. Well, that, and he didn't exactly have anything else to do.

When they were alone in the Potions classroom and the orange mixture was slowly beginning to reach the correct temperature, she brought up what he'd been dreading. "I'm actually glad I caught you, I wanted to talk about last night."

Inwardly he groaned and through a fit, but on the outside her pursed his lips and briefly made a motion indicating for her to continue.

"I know that you know I fancy you," she began, her voice still hoarse and quiet, as though it hurt for her to speak at all. "But I can accept that it's not something that you're ready for. I won't push the issue again. It's up to you, now, I think I've done enough. I don't want you to feel like you need to be with me, for whatever reason, and it's clear you're going through enough of your own issues, so I'll let you sort that out. If you want to talk or anything, though, you know where to find me."

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and focused his attention on the Gillyweed on the table. "Did we... I mean...What exactly...-?"

She laughed a bit, and then winced and grabbed at her head. "Nothing. Nothing really happened. We snogged, laid on your bed, undressed, and then you blacked out. And I...just wanted to be near you, I guess. So I stayed. You leaving this morning is what opened my eyes to the whole thing, though."

Draco hung his head, his hair tickling his forehead as he did so, not liking how he felt all the sudden. Sure, he didn't want to be with Astoria, but she still really wanted to be with him. He figured it wouldn't be half bad to just be her friend, Merlin knew he didn't really have any of those.

"Can I ask a question though?"

He wanted to say no to that. "Sure."

"What... well... What does Pansy have that I lack?"

He laughed, relieved. "Pansy and I just have history. We've been through a lot together. Pansy was the first person to be there for me and she just kind of stayed. Honestly, I don't even like her half the time."

"Then...what about Hermione?"

He stiffened at her name. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about this, and he hated that he'd been so transparent about the entire thing. Did _everyone_ know he fancied the Mudblood? "What about her?" There was a warning to his tone, he'd perfected doing that years ago, with Crabbe and Goyle.

"I'm not blind, Draco."

"I wish everyone would stop pretending like they knew anything about that situation. Granger and I work together on a project. Just because I don't hate the ground she walks on doesn't mean I'd touch her, or do anything that could jeopardize my family's bloodline." His words didn't sound very convicting when he spoke them out loud, but Astoria refrained from commenting, so he figured perhaps he'd done an alright job with convincing her. At least for now.

They spoke a little more as the potion finished and Astoria drank it, and Draco watched as her skin turned back to it's usual bright appearance, and she seemed to regain the life in her. She smiled at him gratefully and they poured the rest into a large bottle, telling Professor Slughorn that they were taking it to Madame Pomfrey now, but Astoria stuck it inside of her bag that had an undetectable extension charm on it (again, Draco was impressed by her intelligence, he struggled with that spell) and kept it.

They parted ways outside the classroom and he headed to the library then, and perhaps bump into Granger. He was a little taken aback to see that Granger was already there, however, and was sitting in the spot he usually took, looking instantly nervous when he walked in the room. "Let's go to the Room of Requirement today," she said quickly. "We should start to practice. Everyone else seems to already be finished with their work and we-"

"Okay," he agreed, cutting in. "Spare me your list of excuses. Let's just go and get this over with."

She blinked, and rose to her feet, grabbing her bag. "Now?"

He looked around, and his voice dripped of sarcasm when he spoke, "I suppose you have something better to do? Were you not waiting for me so I would join you?"

Her cheeks turned pink. "Well I just didn't expect that you'd...agree so quickly. I've got something to take care of first, but perhaps we could meet around two?" He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only an hour away.

"Fine," he replied, haughtily, and then left, knowing that he had just gone to see her and she must have figured that too.

He was angry because he was sure whatever it was that she had to _take care of_ had something to do with Weasley, and that put him in a foul mood. He'd actually been hoping for them to go and practice when she'd suggested it. He really _didn't_ have anything else to do, and that was why he found himself going there right after leaving, on the pretences of setting things up and seeing how the room looked.

He was impressed to say the least. The room was spacious, had a few bookshelves that were filled with books about Inferi and other defensive spells, there was a wall of potions that upon glance and smell he could tell were for wounds, or temporary protection, and a few tables for sitting at and studying. He had no soon as thought that perhaps the room would look better with something for them to aim their practice at, when a few dummies appeared. It seemed the more he thought about adding to the room, the more it created. Soon it looked like an obstacle course that would have made Professor Lupin proud.

He found a few books that he thought might be of service to them and then began just practicing with the dummies to see how it felt. When he grew bored of it he turned his attention the the mirror on the wall, studying his reflection.

His eyes were gray like cement. He'd never really enjoyed them, but he couldn't deny they suited him. They could get dark as he got angry, and turned almost blue when he was turned on, Pansy had told him that it was how she could tell how excited he was, aside from the obvious. His hair was white-blonde and was longer now than he'd ever had it, due to the hair-growth potion from earlier in the year. The cut was the last one Granger had done for him and it was choppy, longer in some places than others, but if he were honest – he liked it. His cheeks were hollow, his nose was pointier than his liking, and his skin seemed to be back to its usual pale ways. He was glad for that. For awhile there it had been almost as gray as his eyes.

If he had to rate himself, he would say he was no Gilderoy Lockhart, but he wasn't bad at all.

A sudden noise behind him made him jump, and he spun around so fast his wand slipped out of his hands and landed halfway between him and Granger. He felt foolish that he'd been caught studying his reflection, and the fact that it was _her_ to catch him made it that much worse. He felt his cheeks turn red, which in turn made him feel defensive.

She glanced at his fallen wand moment, and hesitantly walked over to pick it up. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly, and walked over to him, handing it back. "I probably should have knocked."

"You think?" He snapped, snatching it away from her, and stuffing it in his robes. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw she was still almost half an hour early, which irritated him. He felt embarrassed, which made him angry, and he wanted to release steam, so he continued to be rude. "So I'm sure you thought this meeting was solely for my benefit, because you spent so much time with the _Chosen One_ that you know how to duel your way around anything, and I must not be good with my wand. Well, just so you know-"

"I never said that," she interrupted, clearly now having a temper. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking to me like that. I know you can be civil, so why don't you act on it? I'm not your enemy."

He stopped for a moment, seething, and then turned around, facing the wall opposite her, trying to collect himself. He closed his eyes, and once again thought about how lonely he was, how bloody infatuated, or whatever it was, with her he'd become, he thought about her and the Weasel. He knew he was being rude; that he was taking his anger out on her over something insignificant, and Pansy, and whomever else went out of their way to speak to him. He wanted people close by but instead all he was doing was pushing them out of his life. If he continued he'd be completely alone, and he knew it. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted Granger on his side. Maybe because, unlike Pansy and the rest of them, she seemed to not mind who he was when it came to an emotional side. He and Pansy had spent years together, but he didn't think she even knew what his favorite Quidditch team was. Yet here was Granger, a girl he'd spoken with maybe 10 times since school had started, and she could understand why he acted how he did, maybe even before _he _knew himself. "Fine," he said, finally, balling up his fist and relaxing it again.

When he turned back to face her she nodded towards a table by the side of the room, and she wandered over the bookshelf to see if she could find anything worth reading.

Draco cleared his throat when he saw where she was heading, "I already pulled them out… they're on the table." His voice sounded scratchy and almost flat. He felt slightly defeated, and he didn't even know why.

Granger nodded and made her way over to it, looking at all of the different titles. When Draco joined her she spoke, "I know they fear fire, but I don't think _incendio_ will be enough to fight them off. I mean, maybe if we were only dueling one, but Professor Delcore won't be making this easy for us, I'm sure."

"Well, there are other spells for fire," Draco said, reaching in his bag to find a quill, "_Aduro_ is one, _exuro_ another, though a bit less powerful, _inflammo _is also pretty good but I've never been able to cast it myself, never needed to use it personally. It's more NEWT level." She was looking at him, almost impressed, and that made him continue, though his voice was more quiet. "And then there's… Fiendfyre." He said, and at the last word he once again thought of Crabbe, and felt his throat constrict slightly.

He could see her expression soften a bit. "Do you…I mean…It's not easy to control, right?"

He swallowed, "It is if you know what you're doing. Crabbe just… he wasn't the smartest bloke. He produced too much too quickly, and by the time I noticed it, it was too large to stop."

She raised her eyebrows at his information. "I knew about it…I know there was a counter-spell, but I thought it was too complicated to learn to stop it."

"It's not easy. It takes about as much work as a Patronus does, a lot of concentration, and a lot of swift wand flicking. You have to do it right, straight away, or it can overpower you. A lot of people have died from it, thinking they could handle it and not."

"Can you cast a Patronus?" She questioned.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I used to be able to," he said, and avoided looking at her, knowing all too well she knew why he couldn't anymore. "It was a snake. I was upset that it wasn't a dragon – it's what I'm named after for Merlin's sake, so I was practicing on changing it, and then before I knew it…I just couldn't make one anymore… What about you?"

"Mine's an otter," she responded, trying to sound as though their conversation was just a casual chat between friends.

"I can see that," he said, glancing up at her. She smiled warmly at him, at the gesture, and he scowled, looking back down. "Anyway, I think we'll be able to get through this not using Fiendfyre. _Inflammo_ might be our best bet, but like I said, it's difficult. What I'm thinking is, since we're doing this together, we can both try and see who can cast it first, and if one of us can't seem to catch on, the other can combine a less powerful fire spell. I mean, we're fighting together, I don't think we both need to risk burning the whole castle down."

"Then let's get to work." She stated, finding the page for the spell, and taking it from the book. She enlarged the paper and stuck it to the wall to their left, so they could practice on the dummies and still see it as they needed.

It took about an hour before either of them were able to produce even a little bit of flames out of the end of their wand, and that was just a slightly successful attempt. Accidentally, twenty minutes prior, Draco's wand had practically blown up at the end and shot the top of the dummies head off before he even knew what was happening. Granger had laughed so hard as his bewildered expression that he had managed a small smile despite himself.

"You were right," she stated, summoning two drinks for them and sliding his across the table to him, "This isn't any easy spell."

"Yeah, it's just the hand movements are quick and they have to be precise. I don't think I've ever had to learn a spell that took so long for me to perfect before," he admitted.

A comfortable silence passed between them. It seemed she was debating if she should ask something out loud or not, and Draco waited, as he wasn't sure what else to say to continue the conversation in the first place. "I… well… I was wondering…" She cleared her throat. "The Happiness Potion…in Slughorn's class… Did you, well, take it often?"

He tensed up, not wanting to discuss it. He knew he was going to answer defensively even before he spoke, "That's none of your business."

"I didn't mean to pry, only I just felt…lousy, I guess, after seeing how it affected you compared to how it affected Daphne."

"Yeah, well…such is life," he twirled his wand around his free hand a moment, and saw her look down and study her drink. Since she wasn't looking, he chose the moment to study her again. He noted that her hair was starting to frizz slightly, from the heat in the room, and he was close enough now to notice some of it was a deeper shade than the rest, and there were a few pieces that were light enough to almost seem blonde. It was funny, but her hair actually matched her eyes almost perfectly. Her eyebrows were tamed and didn't really arch, in fact, they seemed to be straight lines across her face, which reminded him of his mother's. To stop himself from staring any longer, he spoke of the first thing that popped into his mind, recognizing immediately it wasn't the brightest thing to bring up given the moment. "So…you and Weasley, huh… I'm sure you're not with him for his, ah, _intellect_."

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

"So…he must be a good shag," he continued, trying to sound like he were joking, but realizing after the words came out that it sounded just as angry as he always portrayed himself to be.

"_That_ is none of your business," she snapped, her tone as defensive as his had been early when he'd told her the same. "I could ask you the same about Pansy."

He grinned at the easy way he could turn the conversation, "Are you curious about my love life?"

She flushed, "N-no. That's – that's not what I –"

"I'll tell you whatever you'd like to know about her," he said, now on a mission to make her feel uncomfortable. "How long we've been together, what our first kiss was like, or the first time we-"

"That's quite alright," she interrupted. "I don't think Pansy would be happy that I knew personal stuff about her. I'm not exactly her best friend."

"Pansy doesn't have friends," he shrugged. "So I don't think it matters."

Another silence stretched between them before she broke it again, "So…how do you know Astoria?"

At the mention of her name he got an odd feeling in his gut, one that he couldn't quite distinguish. "She's a Slytherin…Obviously." He knew that wasn't what she meant, but he also knew she wouldn't pry. However, the fact that somehow she had brought the other girl up made him curious. "I don't know her very well." He admitted. He wasn't quite sure what else he should say about her, so he ended his answer with that.

"She's very pretty," Granger said, _almost_ sounding nonchalant.

"I've noticed…"

Again a silence fell, and this time it seemed as though there were nothing left to talk about, so they finished their drinks and went back to practicing. It seemed as though time wore on, and they tried over and over that Draco felt his guard slipping a little. They began to talk like they had the night they'd spent together in the Hospital Wing, discussing every day events and just simply getting to know each other. Granger was the first one to produce an actual flame that lasted for longer than a couple of seconds, and Draco actually cheered her on, feeling almost excited for her hard work paying off.

He watched her grin and continue to improve the spell, mastering the correct flick and twirl of the wand, and then slowly felt his good mood fade. How had he forgotten exactly who she was, _again_? He'd let his guard down and now she knew more about him than he truly wanted to share. And as the idea slowly began to okay itself in his head; he couldn't help but feel anxious about what would happen after they left this room, once other people were suddenly involved. He couldn't actually become her friend. He knew he could tell himself over and over that it was feasible, but he was completely sure that if it came up around Pansy or even Zabini, he would deny it and tease her over things he didn't even think were true. Like the other day when he'd called her ugly.

He was, though he hated to admit it, slightly jealous over the fact that she'd gotten the spell to work for her, though he shouldn't have been. He knew she would perfect it before him, she always did, but it just proved that she was the hardest worker between them, and that only made him strive to do better. Which was why when he was able to nearly perfect it just a few minutes after her.

She grinned, clearly as excited for him as he'd been for her, and once the spell went out she put his hand on his upper arm, as though to congratulate him. He'd stiffened at her touch, just for a second, and then he relaxed, and he smiled at her. Her was close enough now to smell her delicate perfume, and to inhale her scent, that he hated that he enjoyed so much. Close enough to embrace her if he wanted to.

They stood there just looking at each other for a moment, before she snapped her hand away, as though realizing that it was him she was touching. "S-sorry," she mumbled, and quickly went to gather her things. "So I was thinking maybe we should work out a system on how to alert one another for evenings that are free for us to meet up here. That way it doesn't look suspicious for others to see me waiting for you in the library." She pulled out a Galleon, and explained how it was how they'd been able to meet up for D.A. lessons back in Fifth Year.

He pocketed the coin after flipping it around to inspect it for a bit, and then glanced back up at her. They locked eyes, and for a moment he felt winded, his mouth felt dry. He wondered briefly what she'd do if he'd gently grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her towards him…

She broke contact first by continuing to put her belongings in her bag. "I'll see you!" she cried, rushing out the door.


End file.
